A Mysterious Case Of Mistletoe Fever
by RZZMG
Summary: Someone is having sport with Professors Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy w/magical mistletoe. Who could be so devious & to what end? Christmas just got more interesting! FIC CHALLENGE! A/U-EWE. Dramione/Draco x Hermione. Romance/Mystery/Drama. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: The First Kiss

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **This story was one of three "one-shots" that won a recent poll survey I put to the readership, asking them what Christmas-themed stories they wanted me to write for the holiday season (2010). Out of twelve options to choose from, the prompt that fans chose as their third favorite was: **"**_**FLUFFY/ROMANCE DRAMA genre - Mistletoe Silliness (Voldemort lost the war)**_**". **So, this story below fulfills that request (only it's turned into a short multi-part fic, instead of a one-shot), and is dedicated to all who participated in the poll! I hope this story meets with your approval!

* * *

**STORY DETAILS: **A Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger one-shot story. Story is novel compliant up until after the Final Battle of Hogwarts (May 2, 1998). From that day onward, it's an Alternate Universe (following the EWE [Epilogue? What Epilogue] format and characters are a little OCC [out of character] as a result of the plot). _**THIS IS A MYSTERY/ROMANTIC/DRAMA STORY. **_

**TIMELINE:** December, 2006

**SUMMARY: **Someone is having sport with Professors Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts with magical mistletoe. Who could be so devious and to what purpose? Christmas just got a whole lot more interesting…

**RATING:** NC-17 (M – including explicit consensual sex, profanity).

**To see images I've chosen to represent the characters for this fanfic, go here:** http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / A%20Mysterious%20Case%20of%20Mistletoe%20Fever (remove all spaces from that URL for it to load properly)

* * *

_**A MYSTERIOUS CASE OF MISTLETOE FEVER**_

**By: RZZMG**

**

* * *

**

_**CHAPTER ONE: The First Kiss**_

**Friday, December 1st, 2006**

The first Hogwarts staff members to get caught under the enchanted mistletoe that year had been arguing over the disciplining of a student in the middle of a very busily-trafficked Third Floor corridor. Said student had taken the opportunity of the momentary distraction of his Professors' explosive quarrel to skedaddle away as fast as his little Slytherin feet could take him, as the thunderously-angry Heads of both his House and Gryffindor's shouted the roof down.

"Last time: he's from _my_ House, _I'll _be the one to decide his punishment, Granger. Stick your bossy, busy-body nose out of it!" the Potions Master fumed at her, his eyes living storm clouds.

Hermione glared at Draco Malfoy, crossing her arms and tilting her head up to meet his eye, refusing to be cowed by her childhood rival's tempestuous countenance. He'd been pushing her buttons since he'd arrived on staff September the year before, but his antagonism had reached new heights this school year, as if he received some sort of sick, sadistic pleasure from resuming their former, equally-shared loathing, discounting the fact that they were now adult professionals forced to work together. It was as if the war and the years between were merely a skip of time to be discounted by him, the lessons learned from that dark time forgotten. She still didn't understand why he was behaving thusly, but Hermione Granger had _never_ allowed herself to be cowed before (not by his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange under the Cruciatus Curse, and certainly not by her former husband, Ron Weasley, who had demanded she choose between becoming his personal baby-making factory over her career two years ago – which was precisely why he was her ex now), and she refused to be now by this ferret of a wizard – no matter how much taller and broader of shoulder than her he stood.

"Clever use of alliteration won't do you a lick of good in deciding the matter, Malfoy," she sniped back. "The fact is: your boy was leaving _my_ classroom when he intentionally decided to trip up Melly Goodstone and send her flying into the corridor, so it's _my_ jurisdiction, hence my discretion to mete out the detention." She boldly poked him in his rather solid chest, causing him to arch one, perfectly-shaped, dark gold eyebrow in surprise. "So bugger on back to the dungeons where you belong, blondie, and let me handle it as appropriate. Twenty points from Slytherin."

Right as he opened his mouth to argue the issue, a sprig of magical verdue crept downward between them, blossoming small white, unmistakable berries.

"Fuck," her counterpart swore the moment he recognized the danger, causing a gaggle of passing girls to break out into hysterical laughter.

"Language!" Hermione castigated him under her breath in a hiss, although secretly, she was in _total _agreement. She grabbed at the mistletoe and yanked even knowing the futility of the act (just in case there was an easy out), but the persistent weed remained firmly rooted in spot - as would they, until the requirements to break the spell were met. "So… um… this is certainly… awkward."

He indelicately snorted. "I think we can both agree that 'awkward' fails to adequately capture the gravity and horror of this situation fully," he murmured with resignation, running a hand through his short, platinum-blond bangs, causing them to stand on end. "This is nothing short of an unmitigated disaster, and you know it."

Just then, Neville Longbottom and Pomona Sprout (who shared the duties of teaching Herbology this year, as Pomona was finally retiring, and Neville, her former apprentice, was stepping into her shoes full-time) rounded the corner ahead. Hermione's friend raised his hand and waved a jovial 'hello'… until he noticed the mistletoe and who was standing directly under it. His hand fell, as did his smile. "Whoa, that's a bit of bad luck for you two," he evenly stated the obvious.

"You think?" Malfoy snarked, his temper getting the best of him again.

Clearing her throat, Hermione decided she'd had enough of this foolishness. Embarrassed to be caught in so compromising a position and with some small indignation to boot (she wasn't _that_ bad to snog! Ron had certainly liked doing it with her well enough!), she grabbed a hold of Draco Malfoy's robed collar with a firm grip. "Well, I suppose there's nothing for it if we wish to get on with our day."

With that, she rather violently yanked him down and planted a quick smooch, giving him absolutely no time to debate the issue, or adequately to prepare himself for the experience. His hands never touched her, his body never pressed in; only the buzzing sensation of his soft, warm lips told Hermione that the experience hadn't been as unpleasant as she'd assumed it would be. She took further solace in the fact – not to mention a bit of smug satisfaction – that Malfoy seemed as astonished as she that neither of them had spontaneously combusted upon contact.

That done, she let him go, expecting to move along without delay.

Her feet refused her commands, however, the heavy-duty Sticking Charm keeping them firmly in place. "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" she growled, whipping out her wand and waving it about, trying every spell she could think of – including _Incendio_ on the weed. No luck. It was as stubborn to destroy as a Horcrux!

Professor Sprout burst into giggles. "My dear, you're not the first to incorrectly believe that a simple peck would fulfill the mistletoe's requirements! A healthy snog's what's called for!" As she and Neville continued on down the hall to give their co-workers some privacy, she could be heard telling her apprentice her own tale of mistletoe trickery. "Why, I, myself, tried to escape Severus Snape in exactly the same manner about twenty years ago! Imagine my surprise when he…" They turned the corner and were gone.

As they were now firmly into the lunchtime hour, the corridor was cleared of students – which meant that she and Malfoy were alone. Oh, joy to the world!

"I suppose we'll have to do as the old fruit advises and try harder," her unwitting companion griped, his arms protectively folding over his chest.

Cheeks positively flaming, Hermione tried to gather her courage for a second attempt. "Okay, fine. Just… get it over with." Malfoy didn't move, however. Instead, he placidly smirked down at her, refusing to budge a sodding inch. "What? Did I not speak English clearly, or has the wool in your head finally spilled into your ears?" she bit, annoyed with the arrogant look on his weasely features.

He grinned wider, showing too many perfectly-white teeth for her comfort. "'Just get it over with.' Awfully passive words for a Gryffindor, especially one with a major war-pip on her collar. What, too much a prig to paw all over me twice in a row?"

Her jaw hit the floor. "You _must_ be joking! First, I didn't paw you. Really, who would want to? Only desperate ninnies, surely. Second, I am not a prig! You're a foul git for even suggesting it. And third, _I _made the first move last time!"

The ferret's amusement was clearly piqued. "One, I bet I could make you _want_ to paw me. Two, denial is the first stage. I suppose you can't help being priggish, though. No sex for two years will do that to a person. And three, you're saying it's _my_ turn to kiss _you_? You're really giving me permission to put my lips on yours?"

Tired of this constant bickering, a headache beginning to form smack in the middle of her forehead, Hermione decided to ignore his run-of-the-mill, obnoxious jibes and concentrate on the issue, as she wanted to do nothing more than get away from him just then. Feigning disinterest to his final query, she casually shrugged. "We really have no choice in the matter, do we? And since I made the initial effort to get us out of this mess, well, it stands to reason that there's a natural, logical order to these sorts of things."

His arms slowly unfolded and to her alarm, he reached for her hips. His grin became positively, sinfully feral. "_What_ sorts of things would that be, Granger?"

The bastard was playing with her like a cat toying with a bird. He knew perfectly well what they'd have to do to get out of this situation now, just as she did, and yet he expected her to say it aloud, to validate the fact that she had to allow him to snog her senseless.

The hell with that!

Remaining perfectly still, her eyes firmly fixed on the top button of his shirt, she allowed him to lean into her and willed herself not to care that she hadn't had a man this close to her since she and Ron split almost two years ago (as Malfoy had so gallingly pointed out, the arse). In fact, she decided she would close her eyes and pretend this _was_ her ex, for that would be infinitely more preferred than reality.

Gentle fingers tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, refusing her the solace of internal fantasy to see her through this humiliation. "Why so scared?" he challenged in a low, coaxingly sensual tone. His knowing smirk quietly mocked. "Do I frighten you that much?"

Irate at such a ludicrous accusation, she opened her mouth to retort when, to her utmost consternation, her voice utterly failed. All of her bluster melted away as she realized how uncomfortably close he stood; she could practically count those long, thick lashes that were the same color as his brows, could clearly distinguish the mesmerizing ring of arctic white that surrounded the steel grey of his irises, and uneasily note the blatant lust shining in those same depths… Her heart suddenly took off in her chest, painfully slamming under her ribs.

"Do I?" he dared to probe in a whisper of breath that sailed along her lips. Their mouths barely touched, rasping velvety-smooth against each other. Oddly, she noted that he wasn't chapped, as Ron had often been, and that he smelled of sweet apples and darker, spicier herbs from his Potions cupboard.

Changing his voice's pitch, leveraging into her personal space, intimately aligning their bodies was, to Hermione's utmost surprise, enough to irrevocably alter the comfortable dynamics of her fifteen-year understanding of her feelings of loathing for this wizard. Prior to three minutes ago, she'd always known where to place Draco Malfoy in her thoughts: directly into the "do not touch – will bite" category. Now, though, she was finding it hard not to _want_ him to bite her - and in a rather particular way.

Darn it all, he was right: she did want to paw him, and no sex for two years _definitely_ did negative things to her (like _make_ her want to paw him).

This time, when she swallowed, her discomfort was clearly audible. "No," she lied. The lack of conviction evident in her faint voice gave her up, much to her dismay. His pleased hum signifying his innate understanding of her fib only made her mortification worse.

He made his move then, and Hermione's whole body shook as he pulled her torso closer by curling about her waist with one, strong arm. His free hand smoothed over her jaw and into her hairline, to find a home amongst her curls, plunging in and possessively fisting a hunk. Tracing her lips with his, he shocked her when his tongue peeked out and followed the same path, traveling the seam of her mouth back and forth. "That's good," he murmured just before claiming her in a kiss that melted her into the floor.

It was pure, liquid fire; a heated waterfall of sensation cascaded through her, centered on their joined mouths. His magical energies caressed, teased, tempted her, guided by an awakening, strong desire. Her body instantly reacted, tightening and dampening in all the right places. Her bra was suddenly too tight, her nipples too sensitive, her lower lips throbbed once, twice... Terrified by her reaction, Hermione stayed stock-still.

"You have to kiss me back for the mistletoe to let us loose," he reminded her in that same, soft-spoken manner as he momentarily pulled away, his fingers working through her dark strands with encouraging fervency. "Come on, sweetness... If we're going to do this, we might as well _do_ it," he wickedly cajoled, tenderly nipping her bottom lip. "Give it to me, Granger. Put me on my knees for you."

Quivering on the edge of madness, enticed by his delicious taste, his tangy scent, his empowering words and his clear desire for her pressing against her belly, she made the insane decision to jump into the reckless scorcher, desperate to enjoy this sort of intimacy again after so long without. Besides, it was only to break the spell, right? Shutting down the nagging voice of reason in her head, throwing her arms about his neck, she snogged Draco as breathlessly senseless as he did her, holding nothing of herself back for the first time in _years_.

With that, the enchantment was broken… although neither seemed to care or pay this little fact particular notice at that moment.

Roughly shoved up against the stone wall nearby, he was on her in a second, their bodies crushed together so close that there was no room for air or light to pass between them. He'd cushioned her head with the back of his hand to protect it from their violent collision with the solid surface, and his other hand had curved downward to cup one of her back cheeks taking the force there for her as well, but her shoulders met the barrier with a violent jolt. She gave only a small grunt in protest, before being forcibly compelled to ignore it in favor of Malfoy's attentions.

He kissed her as if it were the last chance to do so, grabbing a hold of her lips and not letting go. His tongue demanded entrance and required her full, untamed response once achieved – and she gave it, entwining them together in an erotic dance of wet, lush, drugging kisses. They both groaned as she shoved her fingers into his silky hairline and held on tight at the same time as his hand on her arse seductively massaged the tender flesh, and he evocatively ground his solid erection into her pelvis, rubbing up and down.

Honestly, it was the most intoxicating, all-enveloping snog she'd ever experienced. It giddily dissolved her protests, thrillingly smothered her common sense, and richly stimulated her sex-starved body. It made her brain shut down and her consciousness fly into the clouds. If it hadn't been for the half-hour bell tolling through the castle drawing her back into the reality of their circumstances, she was quite sure she'd have let her partner go even further right there in the middle of the corridor!

Pulling her mouth away, she released the death grip she'd maintained on him. "Wait, I-"

His lips moved to her neck instead, sought out and found her sensitive pulse and suckled for all he was worth, undaunted by her weak, mewling protests. She knew he was leaving a love bruise, knew she'd have to cover it up somehow from her students, knew she shouldn't even let him go this far, and yet…

Malfoy took a deep, calming breath, leaned away, placing space between them. His hands dropped away to rest instead on the wall behind her, caging her between, preventing her escape for a while longer. He stared at her through half-lidded, passion-glazed eyes. His kiss-swollen lips quite assuredly mimicked her own.

"Spell's broken," he informed her of the obvious.

She thickly swallowed, trying to whet her suddenly dry mouth. "Yes, I know." It was difficult to meet his eye, but even more difficult to look away.

A pause as his glance briefly flicked to the side of her neck. "I marked you."

She gave a small nod. "Yes, I know," she repeated.

His pelvis tilted in, touching down upon hers once more; the evidence of his desire was still _very_ prominent. "I'm going to have you at some point, Granger."

Hermione's knees threatened to give out and she quaked, but she dug her nails into the solid, granite wall behind her and gathered her resolve. "No, you're not." That sounded at least marginally resistant, she was thankful to note.

A leisurely, dominant stroke of his covered cock against the front of her dress, right between the seam of her mound revealed the truth to both of them. Her knickers were positively _soaked _in the crotch. It was true that she had gone too long without a man riding her thighs, and it was hard to turn-off such a driving, biologic need... She unconsciously rubbed back against that tempting length.

An arrogant smirk crawled up the side of his cheek, and he bent his head to hers, hovering his mouth over her lips again. "Yes, I am," he confidently predicted, and closed the gap to capture another slow, lingering kiss, persuasively brushing against her pelvis once more.

When he pulled back and turned on his heel to walk away, making the corner without a glance over his shoulder, only then did Hermione allow herself to breathe. Stumbling to her empty Transfiguration classroom across the corridor, she hurried in, locked the door behind her, threw herself into her chair and bemoaned her situation.

She'd kissed him – _more_ than kissed him! They'd practically dry humped right there in the hallway!

Worse, _Draco Malfoy_ had just made a very clear claim upon her!

Touching her neck where she could feel the skin red-hot and a bit sore made her all too aware of the uncomfortable predicament between her thighs... With an hour before the next class arrived, she decided to immediately take care of her problem, hoping this burning need would go away once she found release. Slipping her hand up her dress and under her knicks, hidden from view under the desk (just in case), she did the unthinkable: she enthusiastically masturbated. Imagining blond hair slipping through her fingers, a taut, hard body thrusting away into her sopping, aching kitty, she came with a cry of his name on her lips in mere minutes – a first for her, who usually required a long session of foreplay.

After, as she calmed her racing heart and shaking limbs, waving a charm over herself to clean-up and cover the scent of her sex – positively scandalized by her wanton behavior - Hermione was forced to admit that she was dangerously attracted to Draco Malfoy, a man who had done nothing but antagonize her since the first moment they'd met, and whom she'd despised for all of her teenaged and adult life.

Was that twisted or what?

Bloody hell, she _desperately_ needed to get laid.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**AUTHOR'S EXPANDED NOTES:**_

**War-pip = In the late 1700's-early 1800's, Napoleanic military were awarded 'pips' when they were accorded the next higher rank (which was usually a field commission, in battle). The pips were always placed on the collar of the formal coat.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Next Few Kisses

_**CHAPTER TWO: The Next Few Kisses**_

**Wednesday, December 6th, 2006**

The next time Hermione got caught under the mistletoe it was again with Malfoy – only this time in the Dining Hall entrance during dinnertime, and embarrassingly right in the doorway. "I'm going to call-in a magical pest exterminator!" she growled with a mutinous glance at the evil weed crawling downwards to bloom into happy life above their heads.

Malfoy darkly chuckled. "Saves me the trouble of hunting you down," he murmured in a tone that was for her ears only. "You've been dodging me lately, and I was beginning to miss sparring with you."

Sneering up at him, Hermione huffed in righteous anger. It was true that she'd been going out of her way not to get caught in any sort of circumstance that could possibly lead to… well, to what they were about to do again. Since the prior Friday, she'd abruptly turned about and resolutely marched in the other direction each time she'd seen that platinum-blond head of his bearing down on her, and any House-related issues were sent to him via charmed inter-departmental memo (an invention borrowed from the Ministry and incorporated at the school over the last few years). At meals, she sat on the complete opposite end of the table from him, and either scrambled to leave first, or chewed her food _very slowly_ until he'd found no logical reason to linger and left before her. She'd even taken to spending an inordinate amount of time walking about the castle with Neville, so that in case she was ambushed by the mistletoe, at least it would be with someone she could stand to kiss and who was "safe" (after all, she and he had kissed under the mistletoe last year, and it had been no big thing).

"I _haven't _missed you," she griped and let out a deep sigh of resignation. "So be it. Just-"

"Get it over with?" Malfoy cheekily grinned.

Waving him off, trying to ignore all of the stares and whispers that were beginning to address them from the room's occupants, she leaned her face up to him. "Be reverent," she warned. "For the children's sake."

He didn't touch her this time, but he did slowly dip his head, making her wait for it. His smirk was positively wicked. "I will ever be worshiping of you when we do this, Granger," he murmured, his warm breath tickling her cheek.

"I meant it in the definition of 'respectful,' you git,'" she argued, clenching her hands tight and at her side to keep them from reaching for him. Her stomach turned over with pixie flutters.

Uncaring of the rising murmurs from the students, he paused a hair's breadth away from touching down on her lips. "Right, _respectful_," he calculatingly pointed out that she hadn't been thus far with those two simple words, and then there was no more time for banter as he kissed her again.

Hermione's staid resolve to keep this act chaste and appropriate for the impressionable viewing audience was easily swept aside the moment their mouths touched.

Godric, he had the _softest_ _lips!_ He gently teased her with them, sweetly gliding over hers with expert knowledge. So lost in the feeling, she forgot to…

"Kiss back," he whispered, momentarily pulling away to make the reminder before diving in again.

Blood racing through her veins, Hermione did as bade, letting her mouth innocently explore his with tentative, light brushes. She felt giddy and high as the pressure slightly increased in response, drawing her deeper into his seductive grace. Reaching for his hand for anchor, she tightly gripped him, absently caressing the inside of his wrist with her thumb in passing. A very low rumble of pleasure vibrated through his chest in response. Slipping his hand out of her hold with a quick turn of muscle and joint, he instead entwined their fingers in an intimate possessiveness. A quiet moan escaped her throat as his cool flesh entangled with hers.

There was a 'pop' above them, as the mistletoe's spell was broken and the offending plant disappeared, and immediately all of his warmth and deliciousness was stolen from her as he broke their magic and stepped away.

To her utmost mortification, the room erupted into cheers, jeers, whistles and clapping.

Unable to meet Malfoy's eye (he was probably gloating, the jammy goit), cheeks flaming with heat, Hermione struggled with her feelings. "I hate you," she whispered to him.

Turning away, she made to escape, but his hand sank into the bend of her elbow and stopped her. He stepped in close, tilting his head so his jaw brushed along her hairline. "No, you don't," he arrogantly, assertively stated.

Jerking out of his grasp, she hurriedly stalked away, heading towards her private rooms on the Sixth Floor, feeling his eyes chasing her with devilish amusement until she had climbed the Grand Staircase and was out of his sight entirely.

**X~~~~~X**

**Monday, December 11th, 2006**

The third time she just _happened_ to get caught in the magically-nefarious web of obnoxious tradition, Hermione had begun to seriously have her suspicions that someone – namely Malfoy - was using the magical mistletoe spell to force her into uncomfortable intimacies with the King of all Vipers.

"How convenient," she drawled, looking up at him with marked skepticism, hands on hips. "Mistletoe. With you. Again. This is becoming more than a habit. I charge you're behind it all - another of your childish schemes to humiliate me, no doubt."

His face twisted into mocking amusement. "Have I told you that I love your Gryffindor imagination? It's quite entertaining all on its own, without my help. Honestly, if I wanted to get you alone, Granger, it wouldn't be too hard for me to do so in a more…" he looked about with finicky assessment, "romantic location."

She crossed her arms. "Oh? Then why the sudden urge to stroll through the Second Floor women's loo right after I ducked in?"

Malfoy innocently shrugged. "Had no idea you'd be here. I came to speak to Myrtle."

Dubious, she raised an eyebrow at him. "And since when are you and Miss U-Bend acquaintances?"

"Oh, Draco and I have been friends for _ages!_" Myrtle appeared from the top of a stall, floating over to Malfoy's side, unconcerned with her impolite eavesdropping. She giggled, wrapping ghostly arms about his neck, as if they were old lovers and cooed at him. "Well, since his sixth year, anyway. He always comes to see me, don't you, Drakkie-poo?"

To Hermione's utmost surprise, twin blooms of pink appeared on his pale cheeks. "Hello, Myrtle, have a mo'?" he sighed.

Nuzzling his neck, the apparition snickered. "For you, I have eternity, baby!" With a quick kiss on his cheek, she let him go to zoom upwards, hanging about the ceiling of the room. "But hurry up and kiss her anyway so we can get on with it," she scolded him with a faux pout, erupting into another bout of giggles thereafter.

"Merlin, as if _Pansy_ hadn't been bad enough!" Hermione groaned, putting a hand over her eyes and shaking her head in cynical disbelief. "You'll bonk anything, won't you, Malfoy? Although how you're getting it on with a ghost might be a case for a publishable thesis…" She seriously considered that, wondered if she couldn't use him to research such a piece and strike a name for herself in the field of relations between the living and the dead. No, that would be too pitifully scandalous a subject to tie her coat-tails to, not to mention she'd earn a reputation as a perv. Oh well, there went that idea. "Then again, I suppose you weren't so discerning when you earned the nickname you did back in school, so it shouldn't surprise me in the least," she added for good measure.

He silently stared at her for long seconds. "You mean the 'Sex God' thing?" His flashed a naughty grin. "The She-Weasel certainly seemed to enjoy finding out the truth of that rumor behind Thomas' back one cold winter night back then."

Hermione's open mouth could have caught a dozen flies before she found the mind to argue his statement. "Rubbish! You're lying!" Okay, not so fancy an accusation, but it aptly conveyed her thoughts on the issue nonetheless. There was simply _no way_ Ginny (whom she'd heard him call 'She-Weasel' on more than one occasion in the past) had been shagging the likes of _him_ and that was final!

Malfoy's grin became positively predatory. "She still have that cute, little mole on her left breast, above her nipple?"

Bloody hell. Hermione had shared a room with Gin enough times over at The Burrow before marrying Ron to know her best girlfriend did, in fact, have a mole in said location (Ginny had never been shy about stripping down to change for bed in front of her). Wisely, however, she did not reply to his antagonism, clamping her lips shut and sniffing in distaste at him in deflection. "You're disgusting," she stated with significant scorn.

"Yes, well," he cheekily countered, reaching for her waist. "Jealous feelings aside, you've still got to kiss me to break the spell, like it or not, so pucker up, sweetness."

She slapped at his hands. "Please, you have such an overinflated ego! I am _not_ jealous of your notches!"

His snickering breath delighted the skin along her jaw as his mouth closed in. "Yes, you are, otherwise you wouldn't be so brassed-off at me." Skimming his lips over hers, he stared at her through a half-lidded, sultry gaze. "Seriously, I find that terribly hypocritical of you, Granger, since I don't begrudge you _your_ conquests."

Turning her cheek to avoid his kiss, she huffed in indignant anger. "How dare you insinuate that I slagged myself out! I _married_ my only bedroom partner."

He leaned back, his interest clearly piqued. "You mean to tell me that you actually lost your virginity to the Weasel King? That freckle-face was it for you - all these years?" He laughed. "And you said you weren't a prig!"

Her slap wasn't hard, but it did shock them both. Her fury quickly returned, however, compensating for her momentary stunned alarm. "I suppose the idea of 'making love' is too much a noble and beautiful concept for someone as cold a snake as you to know much about, but don't you _dare_ mock my choice to want such an act to be meaningful."

Steely-grey eyes softened as he reflected upon her words. "You're right. I apologize," he gave a slight, somewhat formal bow to his head. "But you're incorrect about one thing: I'm not so frigid as to have never made love to a woman." For a second, sorrowful regret flashed across his handsome, patrician features. "I _did_ have a fiancee once, as you probably know from the society papers. But I suppose it's fair to say that neither of us have had good luck in that arena."

For the second time in two weeks, Hermione found her assumptions about Malfoy drastically shift. He'd been in love with that Greengrass bird? She'd always assumed that their engagement had been an arrangement of pureblood convienence, and that their break-up had been mutual, as _Witch Weekly _had professed. Apparently, though, she'd been wrong. He'd loved the chit!

The contemplation that Draco had once passionately, romantically given his heart over and bedded a woman, instead of simply shagging like some sex-starved teen, did strange things to her, she had to admit. A fantasy-image of him leaning over _her_ naked body and watching _her_ face while his hips thrust with patient intensity again and again came unbidden to Hermione's mind's eye, making her heart skip a beat, and her blood rush through her body to pool in her womb with fiery concentration.

Malfoy's wicked chuckle brought her back to the moment. He was reaching for her again, his face zeroing-in on hers. "Daydreaming about what it would be like?" he charmingly, correctly guessed. "Yes, I _definitely_ love that Gryffindor imagination of yours."

He claimed her lips again, hot and skillful, burning her up with his talent. _The man should win an award for such aptitude_, she had the moment's odd thought before his thrusting, questing tongue took away her reason, shutting down her sanity once more. To say she was beginning to enjoy his taste, his scent, the scorching response he always managed to ignite within her was the understatement of her life – she _craved_ it. Like a potions junkie, she was fast becoming an addict to the way Draco Malfoy could manipulate her body, and with merely a simple kiss.

Adeptly maneuvering them when the mistletoe's spell let go, he backed her towards the sinks – onto a ceramic vanity itself, effortlessly lifting and perching her bum rather precariously on the rim of a basin. Positioning himself between her legs, he spanned his hands across her waist and boldly roamed the expanse of her ribcage and bosom. Cupping her clothed breasts together, he pushed up and around, eliciting a moan from her, even as his mouth's intensity increased until he was practically devouring her.

Grabbing onto his shoulders for purchase, Hermione let him take her away to another time and space, his cool hands warming as they continued their kneading over her clothes. Releasing his fondling of her chest, he cupped her cheeks instead, holding her with venerate longing as his tongue plunged into the depths of her mouth, tasting every crevice, sweeping through the damp, sumptuous cave to coax her into giving back. Just as she did, gasping in surrender, he abruptly broke off, his lips instead trailing flame down her throat to that same spot as before, suckling hard, reinforcing his earlier claim upon her. "You're_ mine,_" he whispered, slicking his tongue over her vulnerable, responsive flesh.

A self-righteous scream interrupted the interlude before it could go further, and Hermione recognized the sound of Myrtle in distress. The ghost was sobbing, whizzing about in circles like a rocket ship, moaning about having lost out in love twice now – once with Harry Potter and now with Draco. Without a word, Malfoy let her go and paced into the center of the room to try to coax Myrtle into calming down.

It took Hermione a few more seconds to realize she was still sitting with her bum half-in, half-out of a sink, and that she'd just let the most dreadfully appalling individual in the free universe (now that Voldemort and his closest cronies were all either captured and/or dead) cop a feel upon her person.

Godric, they'd done it _again!_

Taking the opportunity of his distraction with the disconsolate bathroom spirit, she snuck off, hurrying out the door and up to her classroom where she proceeded to repeat the events of the other day (still hidden under the desk), casting a Cooling Charm over herself in the sweaty afters.

Dear, oh, dear, this was getting serious - and she was still no closer to figuring out whether the whole mistletoe thing was purposeful or if she was really just that bloody lucky (or _un_lucky, as the case may be) to constantly find herself captured under it with one blond-headed serpent. She'd have to do some investigating on her own. It was time to hit the books again, it seemed.

With two hours until her next class, she headed for the library to research the mistletoe spell in greater depth.

**X~~~~~X**

**Saturday, December 16th, 2006**

The last Hogsmeade outing of the term had left the castle practically vacant. Those not perusing the shops or sitting for a butterbeer at _The Three Broomsticks_ were playing in the snow with ingenuous child-like joy. Hermione looked down upon them in the courtyard from the isolated balcony above the Entrance Hall, a Warming Charm keeping her from freezing, remembering her youth when she'd engaged in similar silliness with Harry and Ron.

Two pale hands appeared on either side of her, leaning on the railing, confining her in place. A warm body pressed against her back, and apple-scented breath stole across her temple. "Found you."

Against her will, her heart took off like a rabbit's on the chase. It required a false start to speak her peace in as even a tone as possible. "What do you want this time, Malfoy?"

Supple lips traveled the shell of her ear. "Isn't it obvious?"

She elbowed him in the gut, not hard, but enough to make her point. "Back off. I'm in no mood for your games."

Ignoring her, he lightly bit her lobe, causing her breath to hitch. "I'm not playing, Granger. Not with you. Not about this."

Angling her head away, she pushed at one of his solid arms, trying to get him to move. "Ha! Right! You've made it your life's work to trip me up, you slimy Slytherin. It amuses the sadistic side of your oh-so-charming personality." Pushing again, she tried to step to the side, but he refused to budge and let her pass. "I've been researching the mistletoe spell, you know. It was left as a retirement 'blessing' by Professor Vindictus Viridian back in the 1700's, but I checked him out, too, and it seems the man was of questionably moral character, as the backbone of his research was in creating mischievous spells that stirred-up trouble. The staff here thought his parting gift funny, however, instead of the negatively-provocative enchantment it was meant to be, and so it's stayed in place all these years." She brushed her bangs back from her eyes as the wind blew past, stirring her hair. "It's supposed to be an evolving curse that knows never to perch above the same two people twice in the same season. That means someone has altered the spell, because it's landed on us three times now." She disapprovingly looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm sure it's _you_. I just haven't figured out the 'how' part, yet."

Malfoy genuinely laughed. "I thank you for the compliment, as it would probably take a wizard of insurmountable wiliness to accomplish what you presume, but I assure you, it wasn't me. Of course, you're assuming it isn't simply an issue with the spell itself that's causing it to act strangely, and not due to outside tampering."

She'd considered that, of course, but it made her feel better (vindicated, in fact) to accuse him of setting up this whole plot, no matter how immature that sounded. "Whatever. The fact of the matter is that I don't trust you not to have something to do with this."

"And why would I?" he countered. "Aside from the obvious fact that I'm enjoying making your knickers wet."

She snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "Hardly. And I think you'd do it merely for the sake of sticking it to everyone's craw that you've been able to get _me_ - the woman who publicly vowed at dinner one night just last year to kiss the Giant Lake Squid before she'd let her lips touch the likes of yours when asked about this ridiculous mistletoe custom then - to snog _you_. You weren't there, but I'm sure word got around."

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his mouth part on a smile. "Did you really swear to something that preposterous?"

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, now for the last time, let up. I don't wish a scene, what with the children directly below."

He paused in his advances for a moment. "Fine, no witnesses then." Those long arms of his wrapped about her waist and hauled her back into the darkened recess of the alcove, where she was summarily shoved back into the wall. Perfectly aligning their bodies, pressing in close, he quite thoroughly incarcerated her. "Better?"

Turning her head at the last moment, his lips met her throat. This did not deter him in the least, though, as she'd hoped; he quite capably suckled upon her pulse instead… really, rather erotically even. "S-stop," she murmured, feeling her body shaking now that the evidence of his rather sizable arousal pressed against her belly. Her hands on his chest tried to push, but there seemed no strength in her arms to do so.

His mouth settled above her ear. "You don't want me to stop."

Swallowing around the lump of feeling in her throat, she licked her lips and turned her head to press her cheek into his, trying to use it to shove him off instead. "Why are you doing this? You hate me."

Rubbing his skin along hers, he hummed. "Do I?"

"I hate you," she reminded him.

He chuckled darkly against the indent of her jaw and ear. "Do you?" Before she could fathom to counter the move, his hand was at her waist and under her blouse, pressing hot against the flesh of her tummy. "Let me prove to you just how incorrect both of your suppositions are, Hermione." With deft, light fingers, he danced across her abdomen, up her ribs to very carefully, very gently cup her right breast. Simultaneously, his lips and tongue glided over her throat, flicking at her sensitive skin, drawing ever closer to her mouth.

Unable to prevent her reaction, Hermione's back arched and her hands clutched at his robes when he stroked his thumb over her covered, tightening nipple. "Oh!" she couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped her lips.

Malfoy's answering groan vibrated through her whole body, bringing to life parts of her that were beginning to sluggishly wake up. "That's it, sweetness," he coaxed as she instinctively rubbed her pelvis against his. "Take your pleasure from me." He ground against her, even as his fingers ducked under the cup of her bra and found her bare flesh. One stroke was all it took to make the tiny bud taut against his palm. He moaned again, capturing her lips.

Madness! This was utter… "Oh, _oh!_" she cried as he pinched her with just the perfect amount of pressure, pulling her nipple out from her body a bit before letting go and repeating.

"So sweet," he murmured as his tongue snaked between the seam of her mouth to entice hers to come out and play. "So _fucking_ sweet." His slow pelvic thrusts rode her lower lips through their clothes, hitting at just the right angle to clip her clit, bringing electric shocks to that portion of her anatomy with practiced proficiency.

Caught in the maelstrom of feeling, Hermione was overwhelmed with need. Yep, two years was _much_ too long to deny _this_ kind of pleasure.

When the chilled air touched her bared upper leg, she jolted out of the sensual haze and became all-too aware that Malfoy's free hand was currently sliding between her thighs. Merlin, she was letting him practically finger her right there above the Entrance Hall! "No!" she panicked, finding new strength and finally pushing him away, unbalancing him and sending him back several steps. The folds of her long skirt, which he'd bunched to her hip, fell so that her hem hit the floor, safely covering her lower body from view.

Cheeks flushed, silvery eyes shimmering with lust, he stared at her with clenched fists at his sides, his breath as uneven as hers. "You want me," he bluntly stated with heat. "I want you. What's the problem?"

Biting her bottom lip, running a shaky hand through her hair, she struggled to make sense of her rioting thoughts. "Wanting - it's not enough. I don't _do_ these kinds of things, Draco."

Two steps and he was back in her private space again, looming over her, hands resting on the wall behind her. "Why not?" His nose lightly smoothed over her cheek. "Why can't you want me, Hermione? Why is this wrong?"

"Because-" she stammered, stalled as his lips neared hers again. "Because we're being forced. It's not… natural."

He huffed with small amusement. "I see no mistletoe right now," he pointed out, and kissed her again with melting efficiency. Her knees nearly buckled, but he caught her about the waist and pulled her in, supporting her.

Never in her life had she felt such desire for a man - not even with Ron, whom she'd desperately loved for so long. And Malfoy was correct: there _was_ no foreign spell compelling their intimacy just then; there was absolutely nothing she could cling to for excuse for her reaction this time. _It's true - I want him,_ she finally had to admit to herself, her body already giving over to the insanity. "It's so wrong," she whispered as he pulled away to attack her neck with desperate tenderness.

"Sweetness, this is the only right thing I've _ever_ done with you," he murmured in her ear, and holding her in a fierce embrace, he found her mouth again and this time, didn't let up until the need for air required them to do so.

**X~~~~~X**

Hermione had managed to escape Malfoy's attempted seduction of her long minutes later when a student ran into the Entrance Hall and loudly called for help. Melly Goodstone had been knocked unconscious, slipping on some ice coming back from Hogsmeade. The Slytherin boy who'd just two weeks prior had tripped her up, and who had made her miserable for years with his taunts and teasing – Brad Pritchard – had carried her within the shelter of his arms all the way up the hill. Clearly, the young man had forgotten he was a wizard and could easily have levitated her instead.

Panicked, the sixth year was red-faced and wide-eyed, protectively cradling the witch to his chest, as they ran to meet him at the bottom of the Grand Staircase. "She slipped and went down hard. Cracked her head. I was right there, but I couldn't catch her in time!"

"It's all right, Brad," Malfoy soothed him with a cursory check of the back of the girl's head. There was blood and she wasn't responding to being touched – worrisome signs, both. "We'll get her up to Madam Pomfrey right away."

He attempted to take Goodstone away, but Pritchard stepped back, a menacing look on his face. His grip on Melly tightened. Hermione couldn't have been more surprised, as the young wizard had ever been antagonistic of the Gryffindor in his arms, from practically the get-go of their school career together…

Oh. My.

Her gaze shot to Malfoy's silhouette. The master of calm and control, he talked the boy down with reason, and took the limp Miss Goodstone into his arms, quickly heading up to the medi-ward. Brad nipped his heels the whole way.

Clearing away the gawkers, sending them on their way with warnings to be in before it got too cold or dark out, Hermione headed after the two males to assure Melly's diagnosis and proper treatment. When she entered the ward, she found Brad worrying over the young witch as Poppy waved her wand about the girl's head, sealing up the wound on the back of her skull and checking for internal damage. Draco stood at the young wizard's side, his hand on his shoulder to calm him.

It was an odd sight, making Hermione pause. Seeing Malfoy acting in the role of the supportive father caused an immediate, innate biologic response in her; specifically, it made her want him all the more, recognizing him not only as a healthy, attractive physical specimen (he would make really good-looking puppies, as Grandmum Granger might joke), but also as a strong, emotional provider.

As if sensing her thoughts at that moment, he glanced up at her. When their eyes met, it was a powerful jolt through her system…

Yes, there was no question she wanted Draco Malfoy anymore, and clearly, he wanted her with a similar desire. Now the only problem was how to reconcile such an outrageous thing before it got out of hand.

_Bloody mistletoe!_

_

* * *

_

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_


	3. Chapter 3: Much More Than A Few Kisses

_**CHAPTER THREE: Much More Than A Few Kisses**_

**Sunday, December 17th, 2006**

Madam Pomfrey's note informed Hermione that Melly was being kept over in the medical unit that day as an extra precaution. The girl's fall wasn't too serious, but the medi-witch felt it required a little extra monitoring; she was predicted to be back in classes on the morrow.

Relieved, Hermione sent the note on to Malfoy to keep him in the loop (and so he could inform Mr. Pritchard of the girl's status). At the top, she crossed off her name, wrote in, "Professor Malfoy" instead and made a small notation at the bottom:

_**Good news!  
Please let Brad know.  
~ Professor Granger**_

Folding the paper airplane back up, she charmed it to find Draco and sent it on its way down the hall from her office, then returned to her desk and continued grading papers.

She'd purposefully held her mid-term examinations this last week as the students were leaving for the Yule Break in six days, and she had wanted their full attention to be on the material she was teaching, rather than their daydreaming about where they were going over the holiday, or on their suppositions of the gifts they would receive for Christmas, or on the substance of their other classes (all of whom were testing this up-coming week). Besides, she knew how student study behavior often was; cramming and the pressure of eleventh-hour revision wasn't good for anyone's health, and it was a well-established fact that subjects learned under such an exercise would have only a twenty-five to thirty percent rate of retention. Competing against Charms, Potions, History of Magic, and the others for such limited space in the brains of hormonal pre-pubes and teenagers often ended in disappointing "T" letter grades… which reflected poorly on her as well. By testing early, she was finding more "A's" this time around.

So engrossed was she in her work, the she didn't hear Malfoy enter her office and approach until he bent his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Boo!"

Dropping her quill, she lurched to her feet and spun about, wand in hand. Seeing her antagonizer standing inches away, an amused smirk upon those handsome features… "Idiot," she growled. "I had a nasty hex on the tip of my tongue just then. I should have used it."

He stepped forward once; she stepped back.

Like a bad case of déjà vu, green leafy sprigs appeared above his blond head. "Son of a bitch," she howled, pointing at it. "It _is _you!"

Draco looked up with some surprise. "Funny, this is the first time it's appeared since the last time we were under it." He glanced at her rather lasciviously. "I think it's _you_."

"_What?_" Her eyes practically bulged from her head in incredulity. "Are you mad? What possible reason would I have for wanting to snog you?"

He raised one perfectly-arched eyebrow in challenge, grabbed her around the waist and proceeded to show her by slanting his mouth down over hers rather intensely.

Oh, yeah. That's right. _This_ was the reason.

Hells bells.

"Marrfooyy," she mumbled around his deliciously thrusting tongue, pushing him away. Putting a hand against his jaw, she managed to pry him off of her. "Down, boy!"

He looked somewhat annoyed with her at the canine training reference.

"Look, this is insane," she tried for rationality, keeping her hands firmly planted on his chest so he would keep his distance. "We can't keep doing this."

He laughed and pointed to the irritating, parasitic plant creeping down from the ceiling. "I beg to differ, Granger. Unless you can find a way out of this predicament, we're stuck locking lips every time. Besides," he countered, leaning over her with purposeful intent, forcing her spine to bend back as she was trapped between him and the desk behind. "I fail to see why you believe it's wrong to do this."

Unable to balance properly any longer due to the extreme angle, her hands were forced to leave-off their guard duty and instead support her weight on her palms against the desk. Malfoy's head tilted and his mouth slid along the side of her jaw to her ear. "You're _bloody_ hot, Granger," he murmured low in that smooth, velvety voice that made her insides quiver. "I want to fuck you so badly that I'm seeing double most days. And I know you feel the same about me." His lips teased her pulse. "So, quit fighting it, sweetness. Just enjoy it."

Merlin, she wanted to. She really, _really_ did.

"I don't do casual sex," she stubbornly held ground.

His dark, sinful chuckle against her pulse made her positively, wantonly damp between her legs. "There has _never _been anything casual between us, Hermione. Not _ever_." His hot mouth trailed over her skin with expert knowledge, and the bite of his fingers on her hips, holding her still, became almost bruising. "You have always been a woman of expressive passions, and I, a man of secret ones." His tongue lathed a burning path up her neck, making her respond against her will; she tilted her head to give him full access while simultaneously mewling in weak protest. "Lean back and let me show you."

"I'm… frightened," she admitted, trembling against him, already dropping to her elbows, then letting her arms slide entirely away to rest her head back on the hard surface of her desk.

Draco followed her down, never disconnecting his mouth from her flesh, suckling tenderly on her tiny lobe. His mouth was filled with sweet devil's fire as he lathed what skin he could easily reach, but when the limited contact simply wasn't enough for either of them, he parted her robes by slipping the ties on the front with nimble movements, and slid tenacious fingers under her long-sleeved blouse, not bothering with loosening the buttons. The moment the hot skin of his hand pressed fully against her lower abdomen, an electric tingle ignited throughout her body. It swirled up and down her spine, weaving a passionate, greedy hunger around her very bones, sinking deep into every muscle, pooling in her womb. He held still, just like that, his palm against the very center of her femininity, transferring heat, connecting their desires, even as his lips found hers again.

His kiss was both torture and bliss.

The pop of the mistletoe abruptly vanishing was a negligible sound in the background. Right then, the only thing Hermione cared about in the entirety of the world was how Draco Malfoy was dissolving her mind, creeping into her heart, and destroying her senses.

His questing fingertips smoothed upwards, exploring the plains of her torso, teasing her bellybutton once, twice before heading north on a meandering path into the shadow of her bosom. Tracing over the cup of her breast again, he smoothed the satin of her bra over her nipple, circling it with slow insistency, making it taut and ready. Hermione gasped into his mouth when he finally took the small bud between his finger and thumb and pinched it rather enticingly.

"Unbutton your blouse for me," he coaxed against her lips. "I want to taste this sweet nipple."

With quaking hands, she did as bade in record time, slipping the shirt open in the middle just as he pulled the cup down, cradling it under the curve of her breast. His mouth dipped down her chin, following a path that led over her throat, into the vee of her cleavage, and then his lips where there, and he opened wide and engulfed the whole of her nipple into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, suckling deep.

"Oh… oh, _God!_" she keened, her hips bucking from the pleasurable sensation, innocently grinding against his erection. The unexpected stimulation of their rasping pelvises had them both moaning. His rumbling tone vibrated through to her very core.

He bit her then, tugging gently on her little bud while at the same time, rocking his hips back into her, humping her slow over their clothes, forcing a rush of feelings through her that left her feeling vulnerable and quaking in his arms. To her amazement, his own breathing had kicked up, as steadily his restraint was torn in two.

One of his hands slipped up her skirt, pushing the fabric along for the ride, causing her knees to bend in automatic response to cradle him closer to the center of her torment. Slipping her satiny knickers to the side, he touched her for the first time, feeling her juicy desire for him drenching her inner lips and the curls of her pubis. He gave a bestial groan as he wickedly slid through the lush dampness of her seam, tracing up and down with a skill that left her panting like an animal by the time he pushed two fingers up and into her, surging deep on that first thrust.

"_Fuck!_" he hissed and lapped at her breast. "You're so tight!"

Pulling the cup of her bra down on the other side, she angled his head over so he would pay equal attention to her other breast. When he took that small, rosy nip into his mouth and bit with insistent pressure, she sighed with approval. "Yes, _yes_…"

The maelstrom of her desire was whipped up into a frenzy as his thumb found her tiny clit and stroked it into prominence as he plunged his hand into her desperate, wet channel. Tearing his mouth from her breast, he kissed her again, his tongue matching the rhythm he'd set with his fingers as he brought her closer to the edge. "Do you like me fingering your wet pussy, sweetness," he murmured with wicked enticement. "Does it feel naughty?"

"Yes," she whispered in between kisses. "I've never…"

He lapped at her mouth. "I know, Hermione. But you're going to let me give this to you. You're _going _to let me." He twisted his fingers up inside her, causing her to gasp at the electric burn. "That's it, little love. Ride my fingers."

Caught in the haze of sensual passion the likes of which she'd never known, Hermione's hips rocked of their own will against his hand, meeting his thrusts with increasing force. "Please," she heard herself beg with the agony of needing them to fully join; mortified that she would do and say such a thing.

His free hand moved to her hip, holding on tight, but his insistent rhythm never stopped - and never gave her all of him either. "Please, what, sweetness?" he required her acquiescence with a gentle query. "Are you finally ready for me to take you as we both want?"

He watched her now with those mercurial, liquid silver orbs, assessed her every expression as he experimented with pressure and pace. It was unnerving, making her feel vulnerable and exposed, as if all of her darkest secrets were revealed to him in the way she moaned and the begging she was sure was reflected in her eyes.

She'd been a good girl her whole life, never slagging about, saving herself for the man she'd married, believing sex was meant to be between two people in love – that, despite the fact that Ron _hadn't _believed the same. But now, looking up into Malfoy's intense, steely eyes, she had to wonder why she was considering denying herself this opportunity? Was it _really_ wrong to want to experience some pleasure in life? She wasn't a child any longer, and really, sex was quite enjoyable. So, why was she making this into such a big deal? Sure it was a co-worker, sure it was Draco Malfoy, but what he did to her felt _so bloody good_, and it had been much too long since she'd felt any sort of flare of desire (much less a volcanic eruption of it, as now).

His fingers moved out of her, and she whimpered in need, reaching to stop him. She'd over-thought it again, hadn't she? She'd ruined this chance to find out…

His robes slid off his shoulders, and the clink of his belt buckle being undone made her realize that he had no intention of stopping. He was going to have her, as he'd promised, and he meant not to be deterred this time.

God help her, she didn't want him to stop.

Her hands scrambled to help him remove his shirt, then her own. Unhitching her bra in the center, she freed her breasts and tossed the lingerie to the floor without another thought. His pants hit the floor. Reaching to help her, because apparently she wasn't moving fast enough for him, he unzipped, then tugged her skirt and knickers off, throwing them aside without care. Fully bared to him now, it occurred to her as he slid his long, pink, thick cock between her soaking folds that they were going to have sex right there, on her office desk. It wasn't romantic in the least.

Tilting her pelvis up, enflamed with a scorching need that she would no longer deny, she gripped his wrists and watched him move between her thighs, teasing her clit with the head of his penis, clipping it as he prepared them both.

"Look at me, Hermione."

Stormy gray clouds of thunderous lust stared into her very soul as she met his gaze.

"There's nothing casual about this - about _us_," he reassured her as he entered her very slowly, piercing her entrance, stretching her out. "I've wanted you for a long time." Gliding into her, working through her swollen tissues with infinite patience, he continued to hold her attention. "That's why, sweetness, I'm going to make you to burn for me, as you've made me burn for you for too many years."

Half-way buried inside, he stopped and then pulled back out with equal care. As his large crown reached the end, he paused briefly, then rammed into her fast and hard, stopping half-way again. Once more, reversing his direction, he repeated the torturous maneuver, pushing them both to the end of madness again and again, denying her that last bit of him to completely fill her up, driving her insane with the need for him to shove up into her to the hilt, to let her come finally.

"Malfoy!" she keened in protest, thrusting her hips towards his, taking him in almost all the way. "_Ooh, yes_," she sighed, arching her neck, letting her lips part with the ecstasy.

Curving his hands along her hips, he grabbed her hard and pulled her into him until he was buried to the hilt, with his cock bumping her cervix. Bending down, he paused, resting his mouth against her ear. "Is this what you wanted?" His tone was darkly sensual, his breath hot along her sensitive lobe. With aching, unbelievable patience, he remained motionless, denying them both the reckless, sweaty satisfaction they both so obviously craved. "Say you want me, Hermione. Say my _given_ name and tell me you want me to fuck you good."

Sliding her hands around his shoulders, running her fingers into his hair and gripping tight, she placed her trembling lips against the shell of his ear and growled at him in earnest. "I want you. I want you hard and deep. And you'd better let me come soon or I'm going to kill you, Draco."

He huffed in part amusement, part desire, and she felt his lips stretch into a smile against the skin of her neck. "I knew you had it in you, sweetness." He licked the skin above her pulse, suckling on it even as his penis slowly withdrew with that same tenderness as he'd entered her. "I _love_ that sassy mouth of yours." To prove it, he kissed her again, and it wasn't gentle or sweet, but hot and assertive, applying for her complete surrender at the same time as appealing for her total participation.

Legs shaking violently as she brought them up to cradle him between her thighs, Hermione held on as he began shagging her demandingly, grinding against her on every surge forward, pulling away with forced reluctance on every withdrawal. Her pussy frantically clenched around him, impulsively fighting against even that microsecond of retreat to allow him the friction he needed to pound away. It was as if her whole body wanted to remain in constant, total union with his.

The firm grip she unwittingly had on him was quickly his undoing. "So _bloody_ tight," he hissed against her cheek. "Relax, sweetness, or I'll come before we even get started."

Hermione's body _craved_ though, and wouldn't be denied any longer. Two years without sexual gratification from a man, and so much teasing from this particular wizard over the last few weeks… She needed this orgasm more than breathing, knew it would be shattering and begged for it nonetheless. "Don't stop, Malfoy!" she pleaded. "God, give me more! _I need more!_"

Reaching between them, he surprised her by strumming her clit expertly, thrusting deep at the same time. She wailed as electric currents sparked up her spine, arching it. "Go deeper!" she all but screamed, grabbing his shoulders and digging in her nails. "Yes, yes, _yes!_" she chanted as he obeyed, grunting from his own approaching climax. "I'm almost there… almost…"

"Let go, Hermione," he grit, tightening up, speeding up his pace. "Come with me."

Flicking her little nub wildly, the dual sensations of fire and pleasure-pain he evoked from the forcible lunging of his cock through the super-tight muscles of her cunt charged powerfully through every nerve in Hermione's body as she reached her peak and dove willingly over the edge, spiraling out of control all the way down. She shouted his name at the same instant as lights exploded behind her eyelids - a parti-colored illumination of delight. Her hips bucked madly, drawing his shaft in all the way, and everything in her flushed with heat and joy in one blissful moment as their bodies coupled perfectly.

It was the best orgasm she'd ever experienced.

Draco grabbed her hips, kept them married, threw his head back and roared in rapturous release. Warm fluid filled her up as he deposited his seed deep inside, completing her, bringing with it the ultimate satisfaction.

In the aftermath, she held her new lover close, nuzzling his sweaty brow, which pressed into the bend of her neck. His hot breath blasting across her hairline was as shaky as hers, she smugly noted. It took them at least ten minutes before either was in a position to move or speak. "We didn't cast a Silencing Charm," she murmured belatedly, incredibly embarrassed as she realized that the whole castle had probably heard them.

"Do _not_," he growled in her ear, biting her lobe gently, "regret any of it, Granger - even something that inconsequential. That was, undoubtedly, the hottest fuck of my life. I won't have you ruin it with self-recriminations or doubts." He peppered her jaw up to her lips with kisses, staring with arrogant male satisfaction down at her. "Besides, you _know_ you loved it just as much as I did. Your pussy is still clamped down on me too hard to pull out."

Mortified by the truth of his words, she forced her body to relax and let him go, dropping her legs and arms. Malfoy didn't move away from her though, as she assumed he would, gazing into her eyes once more with that same indecipherable look as before. Supported by his palms, he loomed over her with a frank possessiveness, intimating in his body posture that he wasn't quite done with her yet. His eyes roamed her face, then down her body with leisurely interest, even taking in their still conjoined pelvises before making his way back up. "Want to go again?"

Hermione felt her shock reach epic proportions as, despite the tingling that pervaded her body from tip to toe, she felt him hardening inside of her again. "Aren't you tired?" It was a stupid thing to ask, feeling his body ramping back up for round two, but it was the first thought that popped through her mind.

Rocking his hips slightly, he withdrew and pressed back home in short, staccato beats that was doing wonders to her too-long neglected libido. "I find that I want you again, sweetness," he admitted with a smirk that melted her insides. "Think I could convince you to want me back?"

"Oh," she muttered as one of his hands reached between them to play with her clit again – softly, not over-stimulating, but with just the right pressure to work her slowly. Shutting her eyes, she gave herself over to his skilled fingers and technique. "Maybe," she smiled.

An hour later, she was panting across his lap, as he sat in her chair, holding her limp, very sated form impaled upon his softening cock. One of his hands was playing through her curly, tangled hair while the other hand stroked the naked sway of her spine in a soothing, gentle manner. Pressing tender kisses to her throat, Malfoy chuckled wickedly. "Told you I'd have you, Granger."

She flicked his shoulder, too exhausted to hit him as he deserved. "I hate you."

He marked her neck again with another possessive bite. "No, you don't." he whispered against her ear with all assertiveness. "You're already half in love with me."

Snorting indelicately, Hermione attempted to pass off his remark with disdain. It was a ruined effect by the yawn that immediately overtook her. "You sure it's not the other way around?" she joked, thinking to put him back in his place when he suddenly shocked her by going quite still and stiffening up.

Unfortunately, they were saved of one awkward moment by an even more mortifying one: Minerva McGonagall knocked on her door and walked right in without waiting to be summoned. "Ms. Granger, I have this… oh!" The elderly woman stopped dead in her tracks, as Draco quickly swung the rotating chair about, hiding Hermione's nudity as best as possible with fast action. "Well," the Headmistress looked at her with dry humor behind those thin-rimmed spectacles of hers. "I can't say as though I am overly surprised," she sighed, dropping a packet of parchment on Hermione's desk. "Severus' portrait did say it was inevitable, what with the way you two have always fought like cats and dogs." With a wave of her wand, the old woman floated Hermione's robes to her so she could make an attempt to cover up. "Just so long as you both handle this… situation… with decorum in front of the children and it doesn't interfere with work hours, your contracts stipulate you are free to… socialize… as you please. And this certainly wouldn't be the first time that staff members have fraternized, after all." She cleared her throat, adjusted her hat and indicated the stack of paper on Hermione's desk. "Please get back to me on those at your earliest convenience, Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy, good day." At the door, she turned back. "And for goodness sake, keep your doors locked at all times!"

Floored by the odd situation, it took Hermione another second or two before she reacted. Burying her nose in Draco's neck, she groaned. "Oh, Godric! What, is everyone in this castle talking about us or something?"

Malfoy didn't respond at all in the fashion she'd expected.

In a flash and a pull of muscles, he had them both up and her deposited onto her desk, bereft of his warmth in less than a second. Silently _Accio-ing_ his wand to his hand next, he quickly gathered his clothing and redressed, then took off out of her office without another word, leaving a rather disoriented, naked Hermione feeling rather stupid and used all of the sudden.

So, that was it? He'd had his fun, made the conquest he'd boasted, added her as a notch to his bedpost, and now it was back to the cold treatment?

What. The. Feck?

Trying not to feel the sting that Malfoy's rejection left in his wake, she wiggled off the desk and onto her feet, gingerly redressing. Her body was extremely sore - almost as much as her heart, she discovered to her dismay.

Had he been right? Was she already half in love with him, and that's why this hurt so much?

Ridiculous, she denied, telling herself quite firmly that she couldn't be hurt by something that meant nothing. What they'd done had simply been a fun one-off for both of them, as casual as she'd accepted it might be in the beginning - _and that's all there was to it. _Instead of feeling victimized by this morning's… exercises… she decided she was going to see the event as an empowering reaffirmation of her femininity instead. After all, she'd managed to seduce her co-worker just as much as he'd seduced her.

Yes, it had been good sex, and she'd needed the release very much, but now it was over and she decided it wouldn't be repeated. Once was quite enough.

Okay, _twice_... and some cunnilingus there the second time... but who was counting, really?

Gathering up Minerva's papers, her student's papers, and her wand, Hermione left her office without a backwards glance, and headed up to her private apartment. Along the way, she decided she'd have a lovely bath, a cup of tea, she'd read Minerva's notes, and finish her class work. She'd order her meals in with the kitchen elves, and enjoy the rest of the day in silent solitude, concentrating on the things that made her feel the most fulfilled and happy as a person, specifically furthering her career and helping others.

And she absolutely wouldn't give Draco _man-slag_ Malfoy another thought, she resolved as she shut her door and locked it with a charm behind her.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_


	4. Chapter 4: Kisses Galore

_**CHAPTER FOUR: Kisses Galore**_

**Monday, December 18th, 2006**

That morning, Hermione dreaded going into the Dining Hall for breakfast, unsure as to how to react to Malfoy after yesterday's shag-fest in her office. Would he smirk at her or sneer? Worse, would he pointedly ignore her? She was sure she could face his arrogance or his cruelty, but apathy just might be the one thing that tipped her over the edge into tears. No woman liked to think they'd been used simply as a convenient, willing hole to fill up in the moment, no matter how much of a pep talk they'd given to themselves earlier about being a modern-day feminist who could enjoy sex without entanglements.

Stopping on the first-tiered level of the Grand Staircase, just above the area where it would expand outward into the Entrance Hall, she took a deep breath, patted down her hair (which she'd opted to put up on the sides today, using the pretty pearl combs Fleur had given her last Christmas), and made sure her robes were as straight as her spine. "You can do this," she reminded herself softly.

Continuing down the stairs and rounding the corner, she made it five steps towards the grand doors and stopped on a knut, her insides twisting with hot, painful jealousy.

Professor Sarah Fawcett, a rather attractive, former Ravenclaw who'd been two years above them in school, and who had taken over for Professor Trelawney, who retired from the post of Divination instructor two years prior, was snogging Malfoy in the doorway of the Dining Hall – and there was no mistletoe anywhere in sight.

The two broke away after a long minute, and Malfoy looked up expectantly, seemed confused by something, and then stepped away from Sarah. He said something to her that Hermione couldn't catch from the distance, and the leggy blonde with the sleek, long hair and the impish grin gave him a very seductive wave over her shoulder as she turned and walked away, heading out towards the Courtyard, most likely on her way to the Divination Tower. The woman was running fingertips over her bottom lips and licking them as she scuttled out of sight.

Hermione's body wouldn't unclench, her stomach wouldn't stop roiling, her heart wouldn't cut its paces down, and her feet absolutely wouldn't obey her mind's commands to move out of sight. Locked in some sort of helpless stasis, all she could do was watch him, almost in slow motion, as he turned to look around… and his eyes fell upon hers.

There was no guilt in those fathomless grey depths that stared into her very soul, but there was clear shock at being caught in such a compromising position. On the heels of that came the arrogant smirk that melted her inside and out. He headed towards her with definite intent.

"Granger, I…"

Her resounding slap caught him completely unprepared and his head turned slightly with the blow.

It took them both a moment to process what she'd just done. Anger simmered under both of their skins in an instant, their tempers equally riled now.

"That was for the callous way you left me yesterday," she hissed in righteous fury.

Draco's eyebrows slanted down in confused anger. "Hermione, what the fuck…?"

She slapped him again. "And that was for making me hope that you _might_ _actually _have had a good excuse for having done what you did when you ditched me so coldly. Now I know better."

Growling, he grabbed her wrist – the one holding her wand, preventing her from hexing his dick into the dirt - and looked about for a safe place for them to talk. He ended up tugging her after him rather violently down into the Dungeons into his office.

As soon as they arrived, he bespelled the door for complete privacy and locked it magically with a strong enchantment to assure they wouldn't be disturbed. That done, he proceeded to shove her against the wall, tearing her wand from her hand and throwing it over his shoulder. "You _will not _hit me again, and you're _going_ to hear me out," he demanded, but his eyes dipped to her lips as if compelled to look _there_ before he'd even finished his sentence. Greedy lust burned in his steely depths. "But first…" He slammed his mouth down on hers, kissing her with scorching, demanding fire.

Stunned into insensibility for long seconds by the desperate need evident in his kiss, Hermione could do no more than revel in the fluttering that Draco Malfoy always seemed to be able to evoke deep inside her core. It took the feel of his fully erect, covered cock sliding through the vee of her thighs, mounting her for some erotic rubbing, for her to snap out of the hazy seduction he was intent to force upon her.

She shoved against him, trying to make space so she could knee him in the bollocks, but he'd cleverly manipulated himself into the middle of her legs in protection, as if having anticipated her temper. So, she bit him instead - hard.

"Oww!" he shouted and pulled away. "Stop that!"

"Let me go!" she screamed in his face. "You arrogant bastard! How could you? You still taste of… _her!_" There was no doubt as to the 'her' being Sarah.

Pressing his nose into her cheek, he grit in her ear. "It's not what you think. Calm down and let me explain."

She tried shoving him away again, but he had her good and pinned with his greater weight and the angle. Huffing in fury, she finally stilled in surrender, her breath panting hotly against his skin. There would be no vocal capitulation on her part, however.

"Yesterday, I told you it wasn't casual. I _meant_ it," he calmly stated. "You mean something to me, Granger. For longer than I'd care to admit, you have. Somehow, you've gotten deep under my skin and thick in my blood with your obstinate, swotty ways." One of his hands released a wrist and carved a sensual path up her torso, teasing her breast along the way, curving temptingly around her neck and up to cup her jaw. This thumb rubbed over her bottom lip softly. "The thought of touching you has tortured me for _years_. I've spent the better part of a decade wanking to thoughts of fucking you, dominating you… and recently, loving you, too." He ran his nose slowly over her cheek, around to one ear, down her throat, his lips ghosting a path across her sensitive skin. "This whole last year, ever since I came here, I've wanted _this_, but all we've ever seemed to do is fight. You've kept me at arm's length – until now." He huffed in sardonic amusement. "It took the very clever use of a poisonous weed to bring us together."

Her heart slamming a mile a minute under her ribcage, Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Draco Malfoy had been in lust with her since their school days? That was almost too wild a story to believe!

And yet, she recalled the way he'd looked at her with surprise the night of the Yule Ball in their Fourth Year, and how he'd stared at her with a strange, dark heat flaring in those enigmatic, mercurial depths all through Fifth and Sixth Year. Those looks – despite the words coming out of his mouth – had made her feel oddly exposed, almost naked and vulnerable. He'd scared her then, to be honest, but she'd refused to let that fear intimidate her, not in public, and not in the privacy of her mind. She'd always rallied her defenses whenever he was around.

That probably best explained why they'd been fighting so much over the last year, since he'd taken up the post as Potions Master. She'd refused to look beyond the spoiled, terrible child he'd been, refused to see him as the man he'd grown into and only 'handled' him with boxing gloves when they were forced to interact. As a result, it had damaged their working relationship, and kept them from being friends – and more.

"Someone in the castle is meddling, sweetness," he kissed her earlobe gently. "They're controlling the mistletoe. They want us together."

Like puzzle pieces filling in the picture, things became clearer to her suddenly. "Is that why you left so suddenly yesterday after I mentioned everyone in the castle talking about us - to go check it out?"

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed in confirmation, swirling his tongue over her pulse. "I interviewed our co-workers one at a time, as I could catch them about the castle. I suspect they're all lying. They know more than they're letting on."

"And is that why you kissed Sarah, and then looked up at the ceiling," she continued her supposition, trying not to let his continued seduction of her senses distract her. "You were looking to see if it was targeting you specifically, regardless of the partner, or if it only happened to us?"

He nodded, and his silken, platinum strands tickled her throat as he stretched his mouth wide over her pulse and bit down with perfect pressure. "I kissed Sinistra, too, if it helps. Two experiments and no mistletoe to be found."

"So, you didn't mean to hurt my feelings either time?" she needed to be sure. "You're telling me that you're just an incredibly insensitive jerk in general?"

Chuckling somewhat sinisterly, his lips peppered small kisses along her jaw. "I will admit to _occasionally_ being so, yes, although I'd have thought you'd have noticed such an obvious personality flaw long before now. In any case, I'm sorry that I lacked all good judgment yesterday and left you so abruptly, sweetness, but between what you had said, what McGonagall had hinted at, and what Moaning Myrtle told me that time we met in the loo, I was concerned something sinister was going on and acted before thought. That was very uncharacteristic of me; your Gryffindor penchant for leaping before looking must be rubbing off." His lips trailed over hers, and he stared at her through sultry, half-lidded eyes. "Now, look up."

She did. "Bloody hell, it _is_ us," she sighed in annoyance, seeing the magical spring of mistletoe curl downwards towards them. "It's not just your paranoia; someone's definitely targeted us."

He nodded again. "Seems a fair conclusion, although I have yet to test the theory on _all_ of the other female teachers." He paused and made a face. "Honestly, the idea unnerves me. I'd rather not."

Considering that, she frowned. "Wait, wait! Why didn't it show up the other afternoon when we were snogging out in the Entrance Hall balcony?"

His grin was wicked and very white. "It did. I just distracted you long enough for you not to notice."

Slapping him on the arm seemed her only recourse. "You lied!"

Malfoy had the audacity to unconcernedly shrug. "I'm Slytherin. Besides, my ego was on the line." His lips captured hers in a demanding kiss. "We can talk more later. For now, shut up and let me get on with the seduction thing in apology for hurting your feelings. I've got a hard-on that's aching to have at you, and I mean to make up for yesterday's rather abrupt departure."

Hermione gasped as his mouth burned a path over towards the other side of her neck with fierce enthusiasm, and her free hand moved of its own will to thrust into his hair, encouraging him to bite down there, too. Draco did as she wished, at the same time as opening her robes and pushing her skirt up to grip her naked hip. He paused in clear surprise, and then chuckled. "No knickers?" Tsking in playful admonishment, he nipped her throat again. "Naughty, Granger. Were you hoping to get fucked today?"

"Maybe. Are you volunteering for the job?" she rasped as he bit her again, this time lower on her shoulder.

His hand slid between her thighs, expertly running through her hot, moist slit to tease her clit. "Wet already," he whispered in her ear in that low, dark voice that made her shiver. "I bet I can make you wetter."

Her head already spinning, Hermione shook her head. "Not sure that can happen unless you're inside me," she panted, trying to maneuver him so he'd just pierce her and thrust away with his long, strong fingers.

"Oh, really?" Draco paused to lick her lips once, before pulling his head slightly away, staring down at her with captivating magnetism. Opening his mouth, he did something then that absolutely sent her hormones into a fit of lustful need…"Did you know that the plant just above our heads is called _Viscum album_, or European mistletoe?" he began lecturing in a low, sultry tone of voice, sliding his fingers through her juicy folds, circling the spot that drove her mad with sinful accuracy simultaneously. "It is a hemi-parasitic plant that grows within the branches of trees and shrubs, and is native to Europe and western and southern Asia. It is a member of the order _Santalales_, a grouping of flowering plants with a cosmopolitan distribution. Are you getting all this, Ms. Granger? Don't you need to take notes so when I test you on the subject later, you'll do well?"

Hermione shut her eyes and moaned loudly with incensed arousal.

_OH, GOD! _How had he guessed that being instructed in clipped, precise tones - being spoken to as if she were a prized student, and he the authoritarian teacher - was one of her greatest turn-ons? Did he know her _that _well to have supposed she'd occassionally enjoyed (within the confines of her mind only) the fetish fantasy of being sexually dominated by a hot, very virile male teacher? Many a night in the Gryffindor dorms, behind a silenced bed curtain, she'd gotten herself off to the vision of some young, attractive teacher taking a post here at Hogwarts and giving her extra "tutoring" in "specialized charms" after hours, past curfew. It had been her favorite dream, and had never failed to bring her to climax quickly.

Everything within her began trembling as Malfoy continued his speech without pause, his fingers continuing their salacious roaming up the seam of her vulva, teasing her now-soaking labia, rimming her dripping entrance to her vagina without actually piercing her. His other hand gripped her wrist tighter, reminding her that she was his captive audience. "Mistletoe was often utilized by the Gaulish Celts in their Druidic religious rituals, but it was the Norse myth of Baldur's demise that gave us the custom of seeing mistletoe as a plant connected to the emotion of love. That oral myth, coupled with the ancient Scandinavian custom of laying down arms and calling a truce if enemies were caught under mistletoe in a forest, is responsible for developing the custom of kissing under the mistletoe that has persisted for over a thousand years in popular western culture."

The combination of forced restraint, stimulating her sweet spot and intelligent discourse nearly brought Hermione to her knees with want. A feline-ish warning growl erupted from her throat, and she licked away the small sheen of sweat that had broken out above her lip. "Malfoy, stop teasing me!"

That devious chuckle escaped his lips again as he bent his mouth to hers. "That's _Professor_ Malfoy to you, Ms. Granger."

Through heavy lids and glazed vision, she peeked up at him. "_Professor_ Malfoy, please stop teasing me."

He tutted at her again. "Ms. Granger, if you expect an 'O' in this class, you're going to have to work for it." The double entendre was not lost on her, despite her brain beginning to fog over with desire. Draco's hands on her shoulders gently guided her down onto her knees before him and she found she didn't want to resist. "Do you need instruction here, too?"

Shaking her head (she'd taken Ron into her mouth many times over the course of their marriage), she eagerly reached for his belt, undid it and slid it free, then unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks. He divested himself of his outer robes and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, opening them to the navel as she pulled his pants off, followed by his shoes and socks. His cock bobbed, hard and ready for her, pointing with some urgency towards her mouth (as if already knowing where its ultimate destination would lie). She glanced up at her lover and his amused smirk was full of that arrogance she'd come to love-hate. "I want you to take your clothes off for me now, Ms. Granger. I find I enjoy the view of your naked form very much."

"Yes, sir," the automatic response left her lips as she fell under the spell of their little role-play and assumed the position of the naughty, eager pupil. Truthfully, she'd always wanted to do this, but Ron had had no imagination, and he'd refused the idea, embarrassed by it. That Malfoy wanted to play with her in this manner… Did she really have that much in common with him - perhaps even more than her ex-husband? Wouldn't that be ironic!

With eagerly shaking hands, she removed all of her clothing, and knelt before him, completely vulnerable, recklessly excited for this opportunity, their fight now forgiven and forgotten as she had come to understand his actions (and realized that in both events, she'd terribly misjudged him as well – a fact that made her wince with regret, even if the misunderstanding was all _his_ fault for not explaining his ferrety-self).

Draco loomed large and hard over her, ready for some serious sexual action. His customary dark charcoal-colored shirt hung fully open off his shoulders, and his pale, defined torso was highlighted with sharp angles and shadows in the candlight of his office. The rest of him was fully bared and glorious to behold as she took him in from head to toe. Godric, he really _was_ perfection, wasn't he? All those giggled rumors by the girls in the dorms when she'd been younger had claimed him to be physical perfection. At fifteen and sixteen, she'd ignored the gossip, but now... If he'd been tantalizingly yummy back then, he was positively delicious now. Light golden hair sprinkled his thighs and calves, under his arms, and a small amount appeared on his pecks as well. It also nestled a nice-sized, very attractive penis. He was a bit bigger than average – maybe seven and a half-to-eight inches long, uncut, and of a solid thickness. Right then, he was completely erect, and even had a small amount of dew smudged across the tip of him that made Hermione's throat tighten and her mouth water with the need to lick it right off.

"Ms. Granger," he growled. "I'm waiting for your compliance. Your assignment awaits."

She gave him innocent, wide eyes and a teasing smile, enjoying how he appeared to be in complete command of himself and the situation, and yet his voice and those mesmerizing, steely eyes that called out to her clearly gave away a barely-controlled, ravenous impatience. "You need to be specific, sir, about what you'd like me to do down here. There are so many opportunities," she puckishly offered.

The heat in his gaze ignited. "Suck my cock, sweetness."

Four words, and yet they'd been said with so much hunger that Hermione's body instantly reacted, tightening up. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen and tender, and her clit throbbed as blood rushed to these areas, sensitizing them.

Reaching for him, she grasped his silken, hard length in her hand and stroked a few times for good measure, causing him to release a heavy breath. When her lips met that pink-purple crest, lapping over it twice before taking it fully into the wet cavern of her mouth, he cursed behind clenched teeth. Dropping as far down as she could take him, she felt him hit the back of her throat, go an inch further, and then she had to pull back. "_Oh..._" he grunted in both pleasure and pain, watching her with delirious need, his fingers twining in her hair. "Yeah, sweetness. That's it. Take me deep."

They set a rhythm that she was comfortable with, and he never pushed her, the fingers in her hair applying no pressure. Gently swaying his hips back and forth in time to her action, he let her suckle him with fervor, giving him all her skill. His pre-come was delicious, and she found she wanted to know what he would really taste like.

Unfortunately, before they could get that close, he pulled out of her mouth. Glancing up, hoping she hadn't done anything wrong, she noted the glassy look to his eyes. "I want to be in you," he required, and helped her to her feet.

Before she'd even regained her balance, he had her hair fisted and was pulling it with gentle, persistent pressure, bending her backwards over his arm. Wrapping his lips around her left breast, he suckled her nipple deep, biting it, pulling with his teeth just enough to make her squirm and begin babbling incoherently. "Want you. Need you. NOW. Oooh… yes. Gods, _now, _Draco!"

Pushing her back into the wall, he braced his hands under her arse and lifted, pulling her up and anchoring her against the wall with his shaft poised at her entrance. Wrapping her legs about his waist, she held him taut as he lowered her onto his length. Being as aroused and wet as she still was, they both gasped as she slid down with ease. When he was fully sheathed inside her, they paused a minute to grapple with the feeling of being reunited, both of them panting like mad now, their foreheads pressed together. "Not against the wall," he decided quickly, turned them and walked the five steps to the small sofa in his office, pushing her up into the cushions as he knelt on them before her. Adjusting her so she was lowered onto him fully, he held her close. They were practically nose-to-nose as she straddled his lap, splendidly impaled on his cock.

"You feel wonderful," she admitted somewhat shyly, her fingernails scraping tenderly over the back of his neck and his scalp.

Malfoy groaned with pleasure, tilting his head back fully, exposing the long line of his throat to her in a sexy display of wantonness. "So do you, Hermione," he gasped, as she began moving ever so slowly over him, rocking her hips with sinuous grace. Dropping his head forward once more, he met her gaze, let one hand tangle in her hair, pulled her forward to take his kiss again. "Sweetness…" he breathed with delight as their lips met over and over in mutually-shared, equally coveted yearning.

Hermione threw her arms about his neck, held on tight, and rode him. They made love to the melody of their gasping and moaning, and soft whispering…

"Do you like this position?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you feel me all the way back inside you now?"

"Oh, hold still. Just like that for a second. Oh, it's so wonderful."

"I'll want you again – like yesterday. Once won't be enough. Can we?"

"Yes. Just don't stop right now."

"I won't."

"I'm so close. Are you?"

"Yes, sweetness. I'm nearly there. Can I go a little deeper and harder?"

"Yes. Oooh! Just like that. Yeah! Oh! I'm..."

"Come for me, Granger."

"Oh, oh, _Draco!_"

She crashed with a cry of exhilaration; he grunted loud, bit her shoulder, and followed, holding her so tight to him, that she felt the pulsing of his seed into her this time.

He made love to her again not fifteen minutes later, leaning her partially over the arm of the sofa, coming into her from behind. Despite the detached awkwardness such a position typically afforded, Malfoy managed to maintain the intimacy between them, leaning over her and pressing his chest to her back, rather than simply gripping her hips and banging away. He kissed her spine leaned over to continue whispering in her ear…

"I can get the deepest into you this way."

"I feel it right up against my cervix, pressing. Can you feel it, too?"

"Yes, sweetness. It's _Heaven._"

"Can I touch myself? Would you mind?"

"Not at all. It's a turn-on knowing you can be sexually free with me, Hermione."

"Oooh, that's so nice. Draco?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I like making love to you."

"Good. So, we can keep doing this, then?"

"If we do, would that mean we're dating, officially?"

"Do you _want_ to date me?"

"Are you asking?"

"Say I was, what would you answer be – hypothetically speaking?"

"Oooh, do that again. Ahhh! I'd say it would be good with me. Especially if we can keep doing _this_. And. Just. Like. _That._"

"So, I have to shag you to keep you as mine, you're saying?"

"Absolutely."

"I guess it's a sacrifice I can make."

"Me, too."

"Good, now come for me again."

"Go a little faster and harder, and I will."

"Keep mouthing off to me, Ms. Granger, and I'll spank you."

"You wouldn't dare! _OW!_ You fink!"

"Ms. Granger, more concentrating on the task I've assigned you, if you don't mind. Otherwise, it's a 'T' for you today."

"A 'T'? I've at least earned an 'A', if not an 'O'."

"I'll give you an 'O', young lady…"

He pounded into her, while pinning her to the sofa with his weight, no longer whispering, but cajoling her with very naughty language, commanding her to take her pleasure from him, to earn her rightful marks for today's lesson by creaming all over his cock one more time. That last command sent her over the moon. She orgasmed with a muffled scream into the soft fabric of the sofa, and her whole body rippled powerfully around his cock. Draco followed her moments later; a few hard thrusts and her body gripping him tightly was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Not ten minutes later, the bell tolled, letting them know that breakfast was over and there was fifteen minutes to get to first period class.

Five minutes after that, Malfoy assured her hair and robes were proper, and cast a charm over her to hide the scent of their sex. He smirked with masculine, possessive pride when she winced as she bent to slip her skirt, stockings and shoes back on her feet. "Hush up, you," she reprimanded him and he put his hands up in the air in false innocence. "Do I look presentable?"

He kissed her rotten, smearing her freshly applied lipstick. "Now you do," he grinned cheekily.

With a tsk, she waved her wand again over both of them, fixing the mess he'd just made of their mouths. "You're incorrigible." Heading for the door, she turned back just before opening it. "I'll see what I can find out about our mistletoe culprit, if you do the same. It may have been a nice gesture, but I'm still curious as to why someone would set this up – and how they did it. It's not a spell easily modified, as it's charmed into the castle's every wall and ceiling."

Draco nodded. "I don't care why they did it. I'd just like to _thank_ whoever it is." He stretched, cracking his knuckles above his head and lazily yawned. "You're the best bloody Christmas gift I've ever received."

Hermione looked at him and couldn't help but giggle at the relaxed, sated expression upon his face. It was the most at peace and cozy she'd ever seen Malfoy in all the years they'd been acquainted, quite honestly. Shaking her head, she waved. "See you at lunch, lover boy."

With that, she practically skipped to her first class of the day – Third Years, one of her favorite groups to teach. Of course, for those long four hours until lunch, her mind wandered aimlessly whenever a quiet moment presented itself - specifically over the concept that she was now Draco Malfoy's girlfriend.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

_**

* * *

**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**S. Fawcett is a character created by JKR in the novels. You can read about her here: http:/ / harrypotter. wikia. com /wiki /S._Fawcett. Her first name was never given, just the initial, so I chose the name 'Sarah' for her for this fic. **


	5. Chapter 5: Kisses Forever More

_**CHAPTER FIVE: Kisses Forever More**_

**Tuesday, December 19th, 2006**

Decidedly sore after a night of serious romping about with Draco, Hermione awoke early and took a hot bath, letting her muscles soak up the soothing balm she'd put in the water. After, she dressed and made her way down to breakfast in the Great Hall. When she arrived at her customary seat, a full-blooming red rose was draped across her plate setting. Surprised with the beautiful and thoughtful gift from her suitor, she brought the flower to her nose and inhaled deeply, intoxicated by its lovely scent. An _Orchideous_ spell, surely, for roses didn't bloom in December.

"Lucky girl," Septima Vector leaned in and playfully waggled her peppery-grey eyebrows. "You've nabbed yourself quite the hunk there in our young Mr. Malfoy, Hermione. I dare say I'm quite jealous!"

Cheeks neon red, she thanked her co-worker, unsure as whether it was safe or not to say more, not wanting to create even more gossip about she and Draco than she knew was probably flying about the castle even then.

"Shouldn't be too surprised, though," Aurora Sinistra smiled knowingly from down the table, picking her goblet up and toasting Hermione in fun. "Yours was a romance written in the stars. Both Mercury ascendants, Venus rising." She leaned over as if making a scandalous confession. "Astronomy and Astrology were once considered the same science, you know, and many of us still practice both for fun."

Next to Aurora, Sarah snorted and struck a smug expression. "You needn't have checked the alignment of the planets, sweethearts. As I told you all then, I foresaw this coming last year in the tea leaves," she flippantly replied, tossing a long, blonde strand of hair over her shoulder. "It was the primary reason I didn't make a play for the handsome Head of Slytherin's House myself. Knowing a man is destined for someone else really killjoys the interest." She winked at Hermione.

Pomona heartily nodded in agreement on the opposite side of her. "We all knew it was inevitable, dear. The way you and our irascible Potions Master have always fought – even when you were children. I recall the rows you had in my classroom well enough. You two always upset the baby Mandrakes! Tut-tut, I dare say that our Headmaster was right: you two are like the sun and the moon, opposites revolving about each other with need. Just like that Pritchard boy and Miss Goodstone."

And there it was – the missing pieces of the puzzle had just been inadvertently laid in her lap.

Wow, that was… How simple the answer seemed to be. Right in front of her nose, almost literally!

Now to find confirmation of her hypothesis.

"Is Minerva to be in the castle all today?" she asked, making her feet and grabbing up the rose Draco had left for her as she sidled around the table to head for the exit.

"I believe so," Pomona sputtered, bewildered by Hermione's sudden move to depart. "But dear, you haven't even touched your toast! I'm quite sure that's not a good start to the day!"

Her gaze moving to both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables as she hurried out the door, Hermione noted that both Brad and Melly were missing.

A sense of rightness and urgency gnawing at her guts, her female intuition working on overdrive, she thought that now might be the perfect opportunity… "_Point Me to Brad Pritchard_," she commanded her wand as she stopped in the Entrance Hall. The wand spun on her open, flattened palm for a second before indicating a direction. Following the spell, she marched up the Grand Staircase to the Third Floor classroom corridor, and stopped in front of the room where she taught her Sixth Years the craft of Transfiguration. It was, in fact, her first class of the day, scheduled to start in approximately half an hour's time.

It was no surprise to find Malfoy standing outside the door, his wand trained on it, a Revealing charm showing any on this side of the closed portal exactly what was happening inside the room as if they were looking in with Superman's x-ray vision. They silently greeted each other with their eyes and smiles as she pressed in close to his side to watch the proceedings.

Inside her classroom, Melly and Brad were standing close enough to count eyelashes, both of them clearly terrified to take the step necessary to eradicate the seemingly-inexorable mistletoe spell that currently resided above their heads. Neither said a word as they hovered on the edge of the moment that would change everything for them; it was quite a palpable, powerful few seconds, making Hermione's heart pound with anticipation.

Brad made the first move. The ever-present scowl upon the young Slytherin's features melted away as his fingers caressed her cheek softly, moving to entangle in the female Gryffindor's soft, brown hair. Desire was blatant in the fire of his eyes. His other hand hesitantly rested upon her hip, slowly smoothing around her back to draw her in closer. It was Melly, however, who tremblingly leaned up on tiptoe and closed the distance between their lips.

Magic flashed over the two students, bathing them in white as the kiss deepened, and in her very bones, Hermione understood what she was witnessing – the surrender of soul mates to the magic of love.

Her hand reached out blindly to grip Draco's; his did likewise. He tightly entwined their fingers.

The mistletoe charm gave itself up with a pop, but neither participant in the kiss seemed in the least bit interested in moving away. In fact, they only seemed more encouraged by the new freedom… When Brad's hand pressed under his witch's jumper and cupped her breast, it was time for the adults to step in.

Draco released the spell, and both he and Hermione cleared their throats loudly, just outside the door. "So, I was thinking that perhaps we should combine lessons, Professor Malfoy," she spoke in a raised voice so as to give the illusion of approaching unawares of the situation, not wanting to embarrass the children. Reaching for the door handle, she pulled it open. "Perhaps we could teach the students to… Oh!" she faked surprise at the clear interruption, her eyes taking in the scene of Brad and Melly guiltily jumping apart. "Mr. Pritchard, Miss Goodstone – you're quite a bit early for this morning's lesson. Did either of you need to speak with me?"

The two students were red-faced as they quickly shook their heads, neither looking at the other. They took their customary seats across the room, pretending to wait for the class to begin, both fiddling with their satchels to retrieve their books and writing implements in distraction.

"We'll pick back up this discussion at lunch, Professor Granger," Malfoy informed her, an amused smirk taking up residence on his handsome face. "See you then." He turned on a knut and exited the room in a flutter of dark robes, not explaining how and why he'd known to come here to witness 'the infamous kiss.'

Moving to her desk at the front of the room, Hermione retrieved her lecture plan from the drawer where she always kept it, reviewed it quickly to recall the schedule she'd established for her class at the start of term, and then prepared the chalkboard with the title and a bulleted list of salient points for today's lesson with a wave of her wand.

Peeking between her lashes, however, she caught the covert smiles traded between her two students, and finally understood the reason behind the relentless pursuit of the mistletoe spell upon her and Malfoy.

**X~~~~~X**

By inferred agreement, she met up with Draco in the Entrance Hall at noon, and together, they went out into the Entrance Courtyard, hooking a sharp left, and down the short enclosure to the statue of the ugly, stone gargoyle that lead up into the Headmaster's Tower. "Fribble Bibble," Hermione recited this month's password, and the effigy moved aside, allowing them passage to the magically winding stair.

As they reached the top of the eight stories, she had to take a moment to calm her wooziness (she hated that spiraling ride, inflicted as she was with a touch of vertigo). When she'd regained her composure, she accompanied her wizard to the Headmistress' door and knocked politely.

"Enter," Minerva offered, and the door opened of its own accord.

The pair held hands as they crossed the threshold, preparing for a confrontation, united in purpose.

Minerva was sitting behind her desk, and looked up at them over her spectacles in that manner that had forever unnerved every student to pass through Hogwarts' hallowed halls. "Professors, how may I help you today?" she required, putting her quill aside and folding her hands before her.

Draco took the lead. "Actually, Headmistress, we're here to speak to…" He turned about, spotted the portrait that interested him, and pointed at it. "Him." Malfoy maneuvered them right under the correct picture and tilted his head back to address it properly. "Good day, Professor."

Dumbledore snorted in what was obviously feigned sleep.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Professor Dumbledore, we know about the mistletoe gag you've been playing on us all month." Her free hand on her hip, she tapped her toe impatiently. "I started to become suspicious when Sarah mentioned having told everyone last year that she'd seen Malfoy and I becoming a couple in the tea leaves, but it was Pomona who accidentally let it slip this morning when she said 'Head_master_,' and not 'Head_mistress_' when referring to the issue of who on the staff thought Draco and I a fetching pair."

"The game's up, you sly devil," Draco grinned irreverently. "Severus' portrait tipped me off yesterday. He said, and I quote: 'only meddling, old fools play their hand at matchmaking.' There's only one man I know of whom he'd speaks so fondly, and who matches such a description."

Albus' lips twitched into a smile and then those heavily-lined lids twitched and opened. Twinkling blue eyes stared down at them, a world of mischief contained therein. "Me - meddling and old? How terribly impolite - if not a touch insightful." The old man crossed his legs rather easily, sat back in his chair, opened his hands and spread them apart in the age-old sign of surrender. "So, how will you penalize an intrusive, elderly fool for wanting to see two star-crossed lovers discover happiness together?"

Just like that, her former teacher disarmed Hermione entirely; her ire melted away in an instant. How was it that he always managed to accomplish such a thing with incredible ease? She turned to look at Draco and noticed it was much the same with him.

He met her gaze, a sheepish grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, when he says it like that…" he hedged.

"It's kind of hard to be annoyed with him, isn't it?" she finished the thought. On the tailspin of that, however, her natural suspicions arose again, her brain flashing through the facts and finding flaw with his confession. "Wait just a moment!" She appraised the replica of the Headmaster through narrowed eyes. "_You_ couldn't have altered the spell on the mistletoe yourself, because portraits can't do magic. So who else was in on it?" She turned to cast a critical glance over her shoulder at Minerva, who said nothing, but did nervously adjust her hat on her head. "Were we right in assuming _all_ of the staff was in on the joke?"

The Headmistress cleared her throat primly. "And the ghosts and portraits, yes."

"With so many spies about, it was quite easy to find the both of you around the castle," Armando Dippet, former Headmaster of the school, piped-in from his own portrait nearby. "It required a concerted effort from all of us to assure the plan's success, you understand."

"An effort necessary because you, my boy, are one stubborn mule when it comes to wooing a female," Phineas Black harrumphed from his frame, looking down at Draco with displeasure stamped across his patrician features. Hermione remembered this wizard from her days toting around his portrait while on the hunt for Horcruxes, and knew him to be one of Malfoy's direct ancestors, several generations back. "It certainly doesn't come from _my_ side of the family, though, as we're all prolific lovers. Must be your father's fault." He turned away with a sigh and walked out of his portrait, as if disgusted by the whole enterprise.

There was a moment's speechlessness before Hermione attempted to clarify her understanding of just how truly devious her co-workers and the residents about this place had been by going down the list of incidents aloud. "It had to be Sprout and Neville that first time in the Transfig corridor," she guessed. "No way was it coincidence that they happened by just then."

Draco nodded in agreement. "But any one of them could have been responsible for the event in the Dining Hall entry, as everyone was present then," he ticked off the occasions on his fingers with her. "Sinistra was walking alongside me on the stairs heading towards the Second Floor that day we met in the girl's loo. I thought we'd parted ways as she continued on up, but maybe she'd quickly doubled back to find out where I was going and heard us talking through the door?"

Hermione nodded. "Timing sounds right. You'd come in, we argued for at least two minutes, and then the mistletoe appeared and we argued some more." She considered the next chance. "Entrance Hall balcony? Sorry, but I haven't a clue."

"That was Professors Hagrid and Septima together, actually," Minerva confirmed for them, coming around her desk to stand before it. She seemed the paragon of calm collection, but the way she nervously tapped her wand against her outer thigh spoke of culpability. "He was passing through the Entrance Courtyard on his way inside and had seen you, Ms. Granger, hanging over the railing. Catching sight of Mr. Malfoy's stealthy approach, he hurried inside and informed Professor Vector, who was in the hall below."

Raising an eyebrow at her employer's ingeniousness, Hermione dared to ask the next question. "And it was you, I'm to suppose, who cast the spell in my office when you saw Malfoy sneak in the other day? I'm going to guess that you left soon after that, and then came back later when you thought the coast was clear?"

Color bloomed on the elderly woman's cheeks. "Yes, well… let's just remember that locks were designed with a purpose, Ms. Granger, and to employ them in the future."

"And my office yesterday?" Malfoy prompted the school matriarch, smoothly and casually skipping them right over that embarrassing moment with the on-topic distraction.

Dumbledore coughed delicately. "The Baron informed Poppy that he'd seen you dragging Ms. Granger behind you into the Dungeons. She happened to be on her way past those stairs at the precise moment and was in a good position to take care of matters quickly and efficiently."

Shaking her head in amazement, Hermione laughed, unable to contain her admiration and wonderment over such a herculean effort by the group of co-conspirators. "You wily bunch of troublemakers! You actually worked hard to throw us together! But how _did_ you alter the mistletoe spell?" she asked, burning with curiosity.

As if waiting for such a cue, a rather distinguished-looking gentleman wearing a white powdered wig and layered, expensive-cut robes - a fashion hailing from the mid-1700's - walked into Dumbledore's portrait. He bowed formally and gracefully to all. "I confess to having explained the means by which your colleagues might adequately carry out the deception against your persons."

Hermione definitely recognized this portrait, having studied him at some length most recently. "Professor Vindictus Viridian, what a pleasant surprise."

The man bowed again. "A paramount pleasure, madam." He embarked upon a well-rehearsed explanation then. "Having generated the curse initially, it was mine greatest challenge to work alongside Professor Filius Flitwick this past eleven month to redesign the spell to accommodate Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's requirements – specifically, that the spell might be redirected at a practitioner's will, rather than its own."

"And that took you almost a full year to accomplish?" Draco asked, his tone dry, almost mocking.

Professor Viridian looked astounded to be so challenged.

Hermione felt the need to defend the man. "The mistletoe spell _is _quite a feat of magic, Draco. The enchantment is almost a living entity unto itself. It resonates in every stone in the castle at the same time and it evolves naturally, combining the magic of Charms, Transfiguration, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Divination to achieve its goal of…"

"…trapping two compatible bodies during a specific month of the year for the purpose of making a love-match," he finished for her. "I read that book, too, once all of this madness started to smell of a trap, Granger."

She sniffed, not liking being shown up. "Yes, well, I'd dare to suppose that it's probably the most complex spell ever cast upon the castle as a whole – even more so than the wards that surround this place – because it takes into account the fluidity of time, the movements of celestial bodies, biology, chemistry, mathematical probabilities _and_ human psychology when deciding expressly who to target and when." She looked up at Viridian then, her respect for the man's skill as great as what she felt for Hesper Gamp, who was best known for Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and Bridget Wenlock, who first discovered the magical properties of the number seven in Arithmancy. "It's one audacious, unprecedented spell."

The man bowed his head in humble acceptance of her compliment.

"So, basically, all of you have been planning to throw Granger and me together since last year when Sarah informed you that she'd seen us having a relationship in the tea leaves?" Draco sardonically cut to the chase.

Albus smiled down on them benevolently. "Can you say our machinations have been a poor waste of time, then, Mr. Malfoy? Do you regret such interference?"

Draco seemed to consider that seriously, and then he shook his head. "I may not like the idea that I was manipulated so easily, but in this case…" He looked down at Hermione and smiled gently. "I'm pleased with the result."

Hermione had to agree. "I hate that it was _Divination_ especially that was the catalyst for our getting together, but it's all worked out quite well in the end, I think."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Excellent, then if that is all-?"

She shook her head firmly, realizing that one blaring detail had been overlooked in the chaos of the revelation. "This wasn't _just_ about Draco and I, though, was it, sir? You wouldn't go to such outrageous lengths simply to get us to start dating. This was about Melly Goodstone and Brad Pritchard, too, wasn't it?"

Dumbledore lost his merriment from one beat to the next, and sighed heavily. "They are an important part of this tale, yes. As with the two of you, it was necessary to intervene in Mr. Pritchard and Miss Goodstone's relationship, before the damage of blood and House prejudice could not be undone."

Hermione considered his words carefully. "When they kissed this morning in my classroom under the mistletoe, there was an odd flash of magic. It means something, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore patient smile was as enigmatic as his twinkling eyes. "Perhaps."

"It was the same as what happened between me and Granger the first time we kissed under the mistletoe, too," Draco stated, and she looked up at him in perplexity. "I had my lids cracked a bit to make sure you weren't going to pull something devious and saw the same quick burst of light about us," he explained to her with a shrug. "I thought it was my imagination - until I saw the same thing around Brad and Melly today."

She thought back to that kiss. The peck hadn't done anything; they'd hardly touched then. It was the second kiss – the _real_ first kiss they'd shared – that had melted her into a pile of goo. She remembered how aroused that kiss had made her in mere seconds, and now wondered if it hadn't been the work of some strange magic.

"You know something, don't you, sir?" she pointedly asked her former Headmaster.

Albus' gaze strayed to Minerva, and much was said in that silent exchange. "Despite the horrors of a war not a decade past, hateful blood prejudice still exists amongst our society, Ms. Granger. Sadly, we have discovered here at Hogwarts that our House system does much to contribute to aiding and abetting that division. Since education alone does not seem capable of breaching that gap, and since we do not want to dissolve a founding tradition of the school, it seemed only logical to provide examples of successful co-mingling instead."

It took her only a second to put it all together. "Make the uncommon into the common and eventually, the distinctions will blur until they don't matter anymore," she breathed in awe, fully comprehending his plan and seeing the brilliance of it. "You're using the mistletoe to match-make not just individual couples, but to destroy the lines that divide the Houses. You're using love, not war, to change everything."

Albus readjusted his spectacles upon his nose and smiled quite unapologetically. "Not to detract from the importance of your romance, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, but you two _were_ our test subjects on the matter. And might I say that the experiment was a brilliant success!" His enthusiasm has returned as quick as that.

Unfortunately, his statement deflated Hermione's hubris right quick. She turned to her lover. "Go figure. We were the experiment. Well, doesn't that just make you feel special?"

That mischievous glint was back in Draco's eyes when he wrapped his arms about her waist and leaned his head down close to hers. "Well, since I'm meant to take you on a test run, Granger, what say we indulge, hmmm?"

Grinning with equal impishness, Hermione nodded, sliding her hands up his chest. "I suppose I'll have to make sure I'm getting my money's worth before I buy into the whole 'boyfriend' thing with you, Malfoy. Wouldn't want to make a bad investment, right?"

"Right," he agreed and captured her lips in a lush, wet kiss.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall gasped from across the room, clearly scandalized by the passionate snogging before her eyes. "This is certainly not the place for… would you kindly remove your hand from Ms. Granger's backside, and…? Oh!" She sputtered, her Victorian sensibilities pushed to their limits by the show she and Draco were intentionally hamming up. "Really, you two ought to be ashamed, groping each other like that with an audience present! Professor Dumbledore, will you please talk some sense into them? This was all your idea, after all!"

Chuckling, Dumbledore sighed good-naturedly. "Now Minerva, young love is not something to be contained." He paused, noting what was going on below him. "Although, I _do_ think that such a display should be reserved for a more _private setting_."

When they didn't break away, the former Headmaster cleared his throat rather pointedly. Hermione ignored him, too enthralled by Draco's kiss just then. One of the portraits wolf-whistled in encouragement, which set off the others, who began clucking like mother hens, arguing over the atrocious manners from the youth today versus the miracle of blossoming love. The noise of the debate grew steadily until portraits began throwing things at each other through the frames and the discussion became something of a roar.

Hermione giggled, but did not stop kissing Draco until a cherry-cheeked Minerva forcibly magicked them away from each other. "Really," the Headmistress huffed. "You've had your sordid revenge. Now, I'll expect better restraint from the two of you in the future. You may go now."

They both snickered as they exited the tower for the Dining Hall to catch a late lunch, their hands automatically reaching for the other without thought.

Behind them, the Headmistress attempted to calm the rioting portraits down with little success. "Really, Everard, give Newton back his cap already. Heliotrope! What are you doing biting? Headmaster Fortescue, are you quite alright?"

**X~~~~~X**

**Sunday, December 24th, 2006**

Hermione basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, sweaty, sated and decidedly sore. Draco had the stamina of a champion thoroughbred, and he enjoyed trying out new, kinky positions as much as she did. Spooning against him now in his bed, staring into the glowing hearth nearby, she sighed in contentment.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?" she hummed wearily, fighting off the blanket of sleep that threatened to overtake her as the pleasant sensation of endorphins washed through her body.

"Marry me."

She froze, her brain fighting off the fuzziness of exhaustion in a nanosecond as everything within her came alert.

"I'm in love with you - have been for a long time. I fancy you love me, too. So… marry me."

She was silent a moment, trying to assure herself that she really was awake and this wasn't just a dream. Had he really just asked for her hand? Seriously?

Draco shifted away, and she thought to herself that, once again, she'd over-thought the moment and ruined it. Turning abruptly to face him, she tried to explain her silence, so he wouldn't be mad. "You don't understand, I _want_ to…"

Abruptly, she stopped as he shoved something sparkly and green and silver in her face. Crossing her eyes, she tried to focus on what it was.

It was a ring.

A fecking huge, antique sweetheart, round-cut emerald and diamond engagement ring.

"Oh, my God," she tremblingly exhaled, tears swimming in her vision. "_Oh, my God, Draco!_"

"I heard you the first five times you shouted that tonight," he smugly smirked. "Now, just answer the bloody question."

She nodded, crying. "Yes, oh, _yes!_"

Her hand was shaking as he grabbed it up and slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger, sliding it gently until it could go no further. Magically, it resized itself automatically, fitting her perfectly. "It's beautiful," she sobbed and threw her arm about him, kissing him hard.

Happily ravishing each others' mouths quite thoroughly had the effect of making them both hard with renewed need in under a minute. Slipping her hand between them, Hermione gripped Draco's staff and began stroking it gently. He groaned, nipping her ear, his breath heavy against her neck. "Told you I could make you paw all over me, sweetness," he arrogantly teased, flipping her onto her back and penetrating her slowly once more. "Told you I'd have you."

She raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. "Just get it over with," she mocked, feigning not to enjoy every second of his attentions.

He made her pay for her impertinence with a thorough pounding, gripping her hips and sitting up on his haunches as he took her hard and fast. "At least… I finally put you… on your… knees," she cheekily noted around panting for breath. He thrust into her deep and particularly hard then and she cried out, throwing her head back. "Oh, God!" she screamed, and climaxed around his shuttling cock. He followed her into bliss, coming only a few thrusts later.

In the aftermath, he slumped over her and she struggled to collect her breath. When she finally came around, she opened her eyes…

… and groaned loudly.

"Look up," she sighed, and Draco dropped to her side and flipped around to take a look at their ceiling.

He stared in silence for several long moments, and Hermione took that time to stretch out her senses and to try to feel out the magical aura of another person. There wasn't anyone nearby as far as she could tell, however.

"Who do you think it is this time?"

She shrugged. "Who else is left?"

"I don't know… Hogwarts," he sarcastically replied.

"The castle itself?" she asked, intrigued with the idea, raising her ring finger and staring at it lovely, twinkling gems as the firelight played over them. "It's possible, I suppose. Maybe Hogwarts isn't as 'dead' as we'd like to think. After all, if portraits can come alive, why not the school? There's enough magic and blood soaked into the walls here – over a thousand years' worth, and many of those spells are self-evolving, like the mistletoe charm. With all of the ethereal things moving around here, I'm sure some sort of sentient energy must reside within the stone foundations of this place."

Draco laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "Yeah, right, maybe the castle has really been behind everything, and it's tricked every one of us by dangling red herrings all about so we won't pay attention to the fact that it actually has a brain."

With a pop, the mistletoe was abruptly gone.

In the intervening silence, Hermione dropped her hand, reaching for Draco, her sensible anchor in a sea of insane thoughts. "So… um… this is certainly… awkward," she murmured, recalling she'd said those exact same words at the beginning of the mistletoe fiasco.

Draco cynically huffed, his body molding into hers as she pulled the covers over them. "This time, Granger, I wholeheartedly agree."

**X~~~~~X**

"Albus, do you think we should have told them?"

"No, Minerva, there seems to be little call to make them anxious for what is to come. They will find out naturally, in due time."

"But Sybil predicted before she left that in two years they would have their only child - a half-blood daughter. If this girl is truly destined to marry the half-blood son of Brad Pritchard and Melly Goodstone, wouldn't that mean the absolute conclusion of the Malfoy family line?"

"Perhaps it is for the best, Minerva. Many similar families have disappeared from England over the ages – the Slytherins, the Prewetts, the Peverells, the Gaunts, the Maxes, the Gamps, the Crouches, and the Burkes. The Blacks ended their chances with Sirius. Rosier and Yaxley were both killed in the war, and neither had children, so their tree is cut as well. Vincent Crabbe was the only son of his father, and Crabbe Sr. is currently in prison for life. There will be no opportunity for an heir there - nor will there be for the Lestrange brothers, as they are also behind bars for the duration. When Ms. Parkinson, Ms. Bulstrode, Ms. Brown, both MacDougal and Greengrass girls and Dolores Umbridge marry, their lines will end with them as well. The Malfoys will be in good company. It is the end of an era, I dare say."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Although, I must confess that it feels odd to think that a Malfoy heir – even if she does change her last name to Pritchard - will have my job someday, and that her husband will be Minister for Magic. Will their union really bring about the end of pure-blood segregation once and for all? Are you _sure _Sybil is never wrong?"

"I'm quite sure, my dear. Now, what will we do about Mr. Longbottom? Sarah tells me that the tea leaves show his future divided."

"Yes, either he's to marry the Abbott girl within the next year, or he's to live alone until his death."

"Oh, no, no. The latter simply _won't_ do. We'll have to come up with a plan to assure his marital success. Perhaps a reintroduction of the couple at a staff Valentine's party held at Ms. Abbott's establishment?"

"You mean, _The Leaky Cauldron_?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Perhaps a game of 'Cupid in Cups' might be just what the medi-witch ordered."

"Ooh, Albus, I must say that I prefer changing the world two hearts at a time over fighting any day! I haven't had this much fun in years!"

"Me either, Minerva! If only we'd thought of doing this when Tom had been a student…"

* * *

_**~FIN~**_

_**

* * *

**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Please review!**

**To see pics for the characters and the ring that accompany this story, go here: _http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / A%20Mysterious%20Case%20of%20Mistletoe%20Fever _(remove all spaces from that URL to make it load properly).**

**According to the Black family heritage tree (as constructed by JKR herself), Phineas Black (1847-1925) is actually Draco Malfoy's great-great-great grandfather, and married Ursula Flint (who is related to Marcus Flint). You can find a picture of the family tree here: http:/ / harrypotter . wikia . com / wiki / House_of_Black (remove all spaces from that URL to make it load properly).**

**A list of the pure-blood families can be found here, in case you're interested: ****http:/ / harrypotter . wikia . com / wiki / Pure-blood**** (remove all spaces from that URL to make it load properly).**

**Cupid in Cups = A made-up game for this fic. I envision is being a drinking game of some sort.**


End file.
